


The Art of Embracing Broken Things

by elfcandy



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 3
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Charon is grumpy, Cuddling & Snuggling, Distrust, Disturbing Themes, Drunkenness, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fluff, Friendship/Love, Ghoul Sex, Ghouls, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Oral Sex, POV Third Person, Porn With Plot, Post-Apocalypse, Rough Sex, Sexual Tension, Slow Burn, Smut, So grumpy, Survival, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-15
Updated: 2018-09-14
Packaged: 2019-02-15 04:56:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 13
Words: 23,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13023681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elfcandy/pseuds/elfcandy
Summary: Charlie had always wanted to leave that damned vault, but the outside world is about what she expected it to be: dirty, violent, basically a wasteland. She's taken quite a liking to her new oversized companion though, so at least she has that going for her.





	1. Old World Relic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kintsugi is the Japanese art of filling cracked or chipped porcelain with gold and other precious metals. The philosophy of the practice understands that once something is broken it cannot be seamlessly repaired, but also has value beyond being replaced. It is to embrace and find beauty in imperfections, and to make what was broken whole again. 
> 
> As always constructive criticism, comments, and kudos are much appreciated. :-D
> 
> Edit: I have a tumblr now <https://elfcandyart.tumblr.com/>, check it out for doodles, writing snippets, and I'm open to writing requests in my ask box (especially Charon ones). <3

Nothing ever changed in the Ninth Circle. It was always the same customers, coming in at the same times, ordering the same drinks, and to top it all off they were all ghouls, and ghouls don't age. The days, months, and years seemed to blend together into a monotony of repetition. Charon often spent his time leaning against one of the many decrepit walls of the bar, watching like a bird of prey from its perch. Posed to strike should the need arise. It rarely did, and somehow that was worse.

Every once in awhile, Ahzrukhal would send him off to do various tasks, usually to escort shipments, traders, or to work odd jobs as a mercenary for extra caps. He relished those times where he had chance to use his rather specific skillset, and for the small taste of autonomy it brought him.

There were other times, when Charon didn’t enjoy the break from the invariable nature of watching the bar. When somebody owed something to his employer, whether it was tangible, or worse something that could not be paid for with caps, it fell to Charon to carve it from their skin.

No. All things considered, boring was the best he had to look forward to. Eternally guarding the gates to hell.

It was in the wee hours one morning, before even the first patrons had begun to trickle into the bar, that the door cracked open and something unexpected happened. It was a smoothskin, of all people, that stepped across the threshold. A young woman stuffed into a faded vault suit, the fabric hanging loosely on her small frame.

As she entered the dusty light silhouetted her from behind, giving her the ethereal glow of an otherworldly being. Charon supposed she was just that, a creature from a world completely different than his own. The woman had wavy black curls cut just below her jawline, dark sharp eyes, and deeply tanned skin. Her round face was clear and free of scars, so unlike Charon whose skin had long since been ravaged by the radiation and unyielding cruelty of the wastes.

"Holy shit you're fucking massive. Are you like a ghoulified super mutant or something?" Her indelicate tone cut through his thoughts like a rusty knife, immediately shattering the fragile illusion.

"Talk to Ahzrukhal." Charon growled, with a little more bite than usual.

She lingered for a moment, looking him over with a calculated expression, as if she was trying to figure him out without giving too much of herself away. She looked curious rather than disgusted, he noted, and it struck him as wrong somehow.

The large ghoul could hear his employer burst out into laughter from behind the bar. As if on cue, the raven haired woman turned on her heels and walked towards the counter. She bought vodka, not bothering with a cup and instead drinking straight from the aged bottle. Her voice was hushed, and Charon could only make out parts of the conversation that ensued as she nursed her drink.

“Charlie, what an odd name for such a pretty girl,” he heard the greasy ghoul announce at one point, earning him an amused snort in reply.

After what felt like too long of a while, Charlie set down the now empty bottle and some caps, before sauntering back out of the bar.

“See you around, big guy,” she said, giving him a cheeky grin before the door closed behind her.

Charon frowned, she was so very out of place.

\--

Charlie returned two days later.

She came again in the dead of the morning, when the Ninth Circle was empty, and Charon recognised that it was likely a calculated decision. She probably thought it best to avoid a large crowd of ghouls, as if fewer would improve her chances should they grow feral and ravenous.

The smoothskin beelined for the bartender without sparring him a glance, and this time he could heard the disagreement that ensued.

“As I remember, our deal was a thousand caps for the contract, Ahzrukhal,” she said. Her tone barbed like rusty wire.

Charon felt his stomach turn with disgust. It wasn’t as though he thought her likely to be a more cruel employer than the decrepit old ghoul, he might have even felt the faintest glimmer of something warm inside had she not been trying to purchase him like a slave. Bartering over his existence like a slab of butchered meat.

“That was days ago, the price has gone up. Two-thousand.”

“That’s a pretty price even if he’s as good as you claim.”

Azrukhals mouth drew into haunting smile, so wide that Charon hoped the ghoul might break and crumble into dust. He knew what came next.

“Maybe you’d like a demonstration” The ghoul said, his tone furthering the nausea Charon felt. “Charon, why don’t you show her how useful you can be.” It wasn’t a direct order, but it didn’t need to be, this wasn’t the first time he’d done this.

“Wh-”

Her objection was cut short as Charon forced her smaller body up against the wall, wrapping large fists around her slender throat. It would be so easy to break her neck, to press a little harder until she suffocated, the human body was so especially fragile. It would be merciful.

A small hand grasped his muscled arm as she struggled helplessly against his grip, but he didn’t notice the further concealed movement until the cold business end of a pistol was pressed into the underside of his jawline. Angled to drop him with one shot. He tensed, frozen with her in a heated mexican standoff.

He might be able to snap her neck before she shot him, but he knew his employer wouldn’t risk coming up empty handed.

 _Clever girl_ , Charon thought.

“You can put the smoothskin down now Charon, I think you’ve made your point,” Akrukhal said as if his _employee_ had autonomy, ire etched into the planes of his rotten face.

Charon released her and she coughed, gun still aimed at the massive ghoul.

It caught his attention then. Below her chin he noticed an angry pink scar, peeking out over the collar of her vault suit. As if somebody had tried to carve a piece out of her. He knew that tomorrow she would also have bruises from where his hands had ravaged her neck, her body becoming a map of the violence she had endured. She noticed him watching and pulled the zipper up, becoming whole and unflawed once again.

“Alright, I can see he’s worth the full two-thousand caps,” Charlie said, having regained her composure. She produced a bag of caps from her coat pocket and threw them at Ahzrukhal’s feet.

His contract changed hands.

Charon didn’t realize he had been clenching his jaw, until the paper was safely tucked away into the lining of her suit.

“Going to say goodbye Charon?” Ahzrukhal was turned away, bending over to collect his scattered payment off the grimy floor.

“Yes.”

Charon advanced like a dog, starved at the hands of its owner, before the other knew what was happening. Years of his service had made Ahzrukhal comfortable and sloppy. He had forgotten what Charon was, never having been at the receiving end of his wrath, and didn’t seem to realize the outcome of the contract’s terminated protection. Charon seized his old employer from behind, wrapping his hands around the ghouls neck and hoisting him high into the air. He took a moment to cement into his memory the look of pure terror on discoloured flesh. Smiled. Then snapped Ahzrukhal’s neck with frightening ease.

It was almost poetic justice, doing to Ahzrukhal what he had Charon do to the smoothskin woman. If Charon had been more interested in poetry maybe he would have raped him to death.

He expected Charlie to be at least a little bit put off, but all he got from her was a blank stare that looked deliberate, practiced.

"Ready to go?" She asked, one hip cocked to the side, with an expression that was still impossible to read.

He gave a gruff nod, following his new employer out of hell.

_For better or worse._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Charlie may have peed herself a little.


	2. Charlie's Observation on Porcelain Predators

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ever notice that Charon stares at you constantly? Yeah, Charlie notices too.

The two of them had been traveling through DC for weeks now, scavenging what they could, while keeping a low profile to avoid the grotesque mutants that had set up camp throughout the decrepit ruins of the city. The thin hair on Charlie’s arm stood at attention, muscles ready for flight, and she could feel Charon’s eyes hot on the back of her neck. The awareness that an animal must have as they’re stalked by a hungry predator.

Despite his size, the ghoul was silent beyond what should have been possible. She would often turn around to find him standing right behind her like a towering stone statue, staring her down with those impossibly blue eyes. It was unnerving, and he’d scared the piss out of her a couple times before she’d come to expect it.

Charlie wasn’t quite sure what to make of the big grumpy fucker. Honestly, she was used to being alone that she found herself wondering if the way she saw him was a product of her own distrust, or rather an objective observation. Maybe it was a bit of both.

She wouldn't deny the advantages to having the large ghoul around- he was useful in a firefight, strong enough to carry a lot of shit, and intimidating to the point that people rarely tried to fuck with her anymore. Still, the gravity of his indentured servitude weighed down on her.  She hadn’t been able to set him free. When she tried, the ghoul had informed her she’d have to _sell_ him to get rid of him. So she did did her best to make him as comfortable as possible, to give him what he needed, and to treat him with respect.

Despite her best efforts, it still didn’t feel like enough. _She still had a slave_.

He reminded Charlie of a tiger, recalling to her mind images of the large cats from the faded old books in the vault's library. In the old world they had kept tigers and other predators in exhibits called zoos, safely tucked away behind reinforced concrete and steel. The beasts seemed to know they were captive, but they were always watching. Following their onlookers with steady eyes, quietly mapping the edges of their confines, and waiting for the moment when they might have opportunity to devour their prey.

Charlie felt uneasy, wondering if Charon might devour her too should the contract ever no longer offer her it's protection.

The pair were making their way back from the Museum of Technology, but the going was slow. They’d been tasked with fetching a dusty old relic from the museum of technology, and installing it atop the Washington Monument on behalf of some asshole in exchange for information. It wouldn't have been so bad, but what had Three Dog mentioned as not more than a passing note? The entire area for miles around was infested with _super mutants_ . And of course this was necessary in the first place because who had shot down the last one? Oh right, fucking _super mutants_. It was like trying to stop a flood with a bucket.

Charlie clutched the decrepit satellite plate to her chest, nothing more to her than the dream of a fool they were risking their asses for. Well, that _she_ was risking their asses for.

She wondered if Charon might have been to the museum in a past life, a tiny redhead child staring in awe at the wonders of traveling amongst the stars. Or maybe as an older man, holding the hands of a wife and child of his own. Had he walked through the model Vault-Tec exhibit? A mirror image of the cement cage where Charlie would be born hundreds of years later, after the world had been ravaged by nuclear devastation.

The young woman was lost in reflection as she stepped into an alley they had cleared not but a few minutes before.

“ _STUPID HUMAN I EAT YOU FOR BREAKFAST_ ”

Charlie’s head snapped up, a rush of adrenaline searing through her nerve endings like wildfire, and vision thick with the hulking sickly green forms. _Stupid human_ indeed.

“F-”

It happened so quickly that Charlie barely had a chance to register what was going on. Charon was stepping in front of her, roughly pushing her behind him to safety, his massive body sponging the brunt of the bullets.

The mutants poorly-maintained firearms clicked empty, but still the large ghoul remained standing, his already angry red skin stained in blood. He readied his shotgun with one hand and blasted a greenskin in the face as it lunged at them, a crudely made nail board clutched in it’s massive fist.

It took a great deal of bullets to drop a super mutant, let alone several. But when their acrid blood was finally pooling against the tarmac, scattered with the last of their shell casings, he turned to look down at her. The pain he was in clear across his ruined features.

“Are you injured?”

“N-no, I’m okay,” she shook her head, rising to her feet to assess her companion’s damage. Charon’s armor had protected him from the brunt of the assault, but she could see that he was badly injured. The bullets had pieced through the softer segments of his armor at such close range, and one had grazed clean across his cheek.

"Thanks by the way, you're made of harder stuff than I am big guy. I'd be eating dirt right now if not for you stepping in," she said, regaining her composure.

"I am bound to protect you."

Charlie opened her mouth, but no sound came out, a heavy stone having settled in the pit of her stomach. _Guilty._ What was she supposed to say to that? _I tried to free you but you wouldn’t let me? I never wanted any of this? I’m...sorry._

"Well I'm grateful, for what it's worth."

Charon gave a stiff nod.

"You are not afraid of them?" He questioned as she poked one of the mutants with the butt of her rifle, checking to make sure it was dead.

"Nah, I mean they're big as fuck, but they're stupid too. They don't take cover, and can barely hold a gun in those massively oversized hands of theirs. So as long as they don't get close, I can usually pick them off at a distance. Usually..." She trailed off, gesturing to the ghoul's bloodied body.

“Anyway let me fix you up, that looks painful. I should have some Med-x here somewh-”

"That is not necessary, I can tend to myself."

"I was studying to become a doctor in the vault, I know what I’m doing. Let me." She said firmly and without room for debate, producing a small first aid kit from her backpack.

 _An order_. Her first one.

Charon tensed, but didn't object.

Charlie helped ease him down against the wall until he was firmly seated on the ground. He stripped away the heavy armor from his chest, setting it on the ground beside them and unbuttoning his shirt only as far as was necessary for her to do her work. His chest was a patchwork quilt of battle wounds, the radiation ravaged skin covered in scar tissue having improperly healed over old knife lacerations and bullet holes. The metallic rounds still buried in his chest shimmered like morbidly set gemstones in the dim light.

"Charon..."

She tried to keep her expression impassive, but knew she’d done a poor job when he wouldn’t meet her eyes, looking as though he wanted to pull away. He was laid bare in front of her, breathing soft and ragged like a wounded animal.

"Fucking assholes," she mumbled, tapping a thin syringe of med-x with her finger to ready it for injection.

A large hand tightly wrapped around her wrist to stop her from administering the needle. “ _No_. I must remain focused in case of further combat. I am not in pain.”                                                                                                                                                    

He was _lying._ But Charlie didn’t argue, instead bobbing her head in silent acknowledgement before he released her arm.

“Okay. I'll take care of your new holes, and once we reach better shelter I can remove the older bullets so the wounds can heal properly. You'll feel better, aaaand look less like swiss cheese,” she tried to lighten the mood, bracing a flat hand on his chest to pull out a nearly intact round.

Charlie could feel him watching her with a curious expression as she worked to repair his body.

“What’s up big guy?”

"My employers do not usually touch me."

"...Is that not allowed?" She asked, realizing she may have crossed a line in the sand.

"No it is...fine." His expression was odd. For the first time since she’d met him weeks ago he wasn’t glowering, the guarded demeanor had been pulled back to reveal something softer underneath.

"Oh good, I wasn't sure," she laughed dryly. “So, riddle me this. If they didn’t touch you, how exactly were you supposed to pull the bullets out of your back, sterilize everything, and then stitch them shut?”

“I do not think it was something most considered.”

Charlie’s brow creased, angular eyebrows knitting together. “Well, fuck. You take a bullet for me big guy, and I’ll stim you until you’re afraid of needles.”

He sat up a little straighter as she administered a stimpack, bringing into perspective again how large the ghoul actually was.

Charlie wasn't a tall person to begin with, always having been the runt of the kids in the vault. But she felt so small then, dwarfed completely by his dominating presence. She wasn't even half his size, maybe an arm and a leg at most.

She sat by his side, removing what bullet fragments she could easily access and tending to the more serious wounds. She knew what she was doing, and she worked fast. Wrapping the remaining wounds to sustain the ghoul until they could reach someplace more safe. She paused in her work, taking a moment to run her hands over the valleys of his ruined flesh. He was much warmer than most people she noted, giving off heat like a powerful furnace. She wondered if it was because he was a ghoul, or because he was so inhumanly large.

When she first met Charon she had been frightened of him, she still was in a way. It would be a foolish not to be. She could still feel the crushing weight of his hands around her throat, squeezing the last of the air from her lungs. Her neck was raw and sore, and the ghost of purple handprints bloomed across her skin like poisonous flowers. It had been a dance that felt all too rehearsed, practiced and perfected on a myriad of partners before her no doubt. Charlie shivered.

He had struck her curiosity on first sight as he leaned against the wall in the corner of the Ninth Circle, both terrifying and intriguing at the same time. What was that old saying? _Curiosity killed the cat_ . It wasn’t just his size that had set him apart from the other Ghouls in Underworld, he had this _look_ about him. The look of a caged animal, like a tiger who’d had its freedom stripped away to sit rotting in a concrete box until it eventually died.

Kind of like being in a _vault_.

Charon was a force to be reckoned with, but she knew he was a bit broken too. A cracked porcelain cat, like the ones that the eccentric Mrs. Armstrong liked to collect on her mantlepiece. Charlie had tried to play with one as a child, dropping and shattering it on the floor with clumsy young fingers. She’d painstakingly pieced the figurine back together with glue, but Mrs. Armstrong had been furious when she learned of it’s fate. _It’s broken now! Worthless! Garbage!_ The woman’s shrill voice had cried, throwing the little figurine at her. But the young Charlie had seen it’s worth- it's fragmented surface and chipped ears telling the story of the past it had overcome.

Something was different when she looked at him now, a seed of trust planted amidst the harrowing fear she’d held for him. Maybe it was the brutal display of power as he stepped into the line of fire, taking countless bullets and several blows without once bowing. Maybe it was the knowledge that he would protect her when she needed it, that in a way she wasn’t alone any more. The thought warmed the guilty rock in the pit of her stomach until it threatened to burn through. He was strong, sturdy, and being a ghoul only made that so much more apparent. His muscles were visible on the surface of his body, unobstructed by derma and chorded like thick powerful rope around sturdy bone. It would be so easy for him to use those large muscular arms to hold her down and-

Charlie froze, shocked at where her mind was headed. From objective scientific observation right to something dirty, something forbidden and wrong for one who held this kind of power over him to be imagining.

Charon only saw the fear and disgust etched into the delicate contours of her face. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had the opportunity to observe some big cats at a wildlife conservation and rehabilitation center a while back, which is what inspired a lot of this chapter. I have several more chapter in various stages of finish all from Charon’s perspective. I figured if I wrote from Charlie’s perspective it would be that she talks and thinks a lot, and Charon grunts and stares at a wall for some reason. This chapter is like 99% Charlie thinking about cats though.
> 
> I think it makes sense for a vaultie to have a bit more empathy towards Charon than other people would. She’s spent her life safe and getting what she needed without having to scrap for it, while most wastelanders barely have enough for themselves. Like we consider Megaton a relatively niceish place, but Moriarty essentially has a ghoul slave and at least two indentured prostitutes, and nobody says peep about that.
> 
> As always constructive criticism, comments, and kudos are much appreciated. I started writing creatively a couple months ago, and the the only stuff before that was four years of academic papers, so I have no idea what I’m doing! :-D


	3. Vodka Honesty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Of shoes and ships and sealing wax  
> Of cabbages and kings  
> And while the sea is boiling hot  
> And whether pigs have wings  
> Kaloo Kalay no work today  
> We're cabbages and kings
> 
> Charon and Charlie get smashed.

Charon sat across the fire from his employer, the smouldering flames casting them in a warm glow amongst the rubble of the Washington monument. The long white spire was framed against the vaste blackness of the sky, and chunks of stone had broken off over the years, leaving the structure’s skeleton visible between the cracks. Much like himself, Charon thought wryly. The upper floor where they’d taken shelter for the night offered little cover from the elements, but allowed them a vantage point overlooking the entirety of DC. It was a tactically sound place to rest, Charon had decided. 

The ghoul sat quietly atop an old mattress, cleaning his shotgun and paying little attention to the young woman and her impressive pile of empty vodka bottles. Yet he found Charlie tugging at his thoughts,  _ she was a curious woman.  _

She could be loud and crass, flirty, sharp and calculated. As prickly as an old world rose, or as smooth as flowing river. Every action, expression, and word- a conscious and calculated decision. She would slip on identities like ornate ballrooms masks, something unique and carefully selected for every occasion. Then there were the other times...times when she thought she was alone, sleeping, or drunk, where he would catch a rare glimpse of the fragile creature that lived under all those layers of carefully structured personality. 

Charon couldn’t help but peek through the window of opportunity to observe her up close like this.

Charlie was a tiny thing, yet she conveyed this air of confidence, intensity and power. He wondered if others noticed the slightness of her build, or if it was so apparent because she was no more than a fraction of his size. She had dark skin and wild hair for a vault dweller, her roots from someplace far away that once he could have put a name to. Reminding him of spiced foods and the erotic swaying hips of dancing women...But the memories were gone now, deteriorated and existing only in pieces,  _ much like the rest of him _ . Her features were a little too big for her face, and it made her look younger than she was. Like an awkward teenager that was still growing into their body. She had a slight underbite, rounding out the sharper features of her face, eyes black as scorched earth, and a bright smile that reached her eyes and dimpled her cheeks. 

He liked her well enough, well perhaps tolerated would be a better word. She wasn't cruel like Ahzrukhal or many of his former employers, she had a mean shot with a rifle, and she was competent enough to have survived the wastes so far by herself.

”So you’re like... _ hic _ ...really old. How old are you big guy...like a hundred?”

Yes,  _ tolerated _ was a good word.

“Your skin, it hurt?...Not the bullets and shit, like your actual skin?”

“-Wait I guess you don’t have much skin left…”

“Hey, why are you making an angry face?”

“Pffff you’re...you’re a  _ grumpy _ giant”

Most of his past employers had been indifferent to him, some slightly uneasy, but never so brazenly comfortable as drunk Charlie now seemed to be. She’d been wary of him in the beginning, keeping a respectful distance which Charon now _ sorely _ missed. But ever since he’d covered her ass the day before, she seemed more at ease around him, familiar even.

“T _ HE SMILES WILL NEVER CONQUER YOUR FACE _ .” 

Charon  _ almost _ wished he’d let them shoot her. 

Charlie had been firing off questions and rambling at him for the better part of an hour, none of which Charon had been ordered to answer. So he sat there, humouring her, as she tested the limits of his patience.

"So what do you wanna do, Charon?" She hummed, poking the fire with a stick and watching the sparks dance up into the night sky.

The question took Charon by surprise, and he looked over to meet her gaze as she had been watching him.

"I do not understand," he said gruffly. 

"I think that was about as straightforward of a question as they come. You have some place you wanna go? Something you wanna do?... _ Somebody _ you wanna d- see? What floats your boat you oversized fuck," she punctuated with a laugh that sounded distinctly drunk, clearly having romanced the vodka they’d found earlier a little too passionately. 

"Why did you buy me?" Charon countered, bluntly stepping around her question. 

Charlie paused, looking thoughtful.

"At first...I think it was because you looked bored, stuck there in the corner of that bar all the time. It reminded me of when I was trapped in the vault, but at least there I could mostly do what I wanted." 

Charon raised an eyebrow at the childishness of her sentiment.

"I mean, life out here's not great. It's dangerous, dirty, and you're always looking for your next meal...but stuff happens out here. You can go wherever you want, watch the sunrise, meet new people, even make a difference, you know? It's better than being cooped up in some little corner waiting for the days to tick by. At least, it was for me," the young woman looked up at him, as if waiting for him to reply.

Charon simply gave a vague grunt and looked away over the dark horizon as if he was searching for something, maybe words.

"But I think what pushed me to, you know, essentially buy myself a slave, was how fucking miserable you were. Thought I could liberate you and shit, do my good deed for the day. Now I'm stuck with you, and let's be honest, you're not the most interesting conversation around," she rolled her eyes and took another swig from the bottle. "Like talking to a brick wall."

"Not a lot of people would admit that they bought a slave," he pondered, peering at her through the fire.

"What would you prefer I call you, my best friend forever? Guess it's accurate." 

Charon snorted. 

"Good fucking god, he laughs! Here-" she said, shoving a dingy vodka bottle into his hands. "It's impossible for me to get any more drunk, you’re gonna have to finish the rest." Despite the forcefulness of the action and her drunken state, it was carefully constructed not to be an order. And it reminded Charon that she was sharper than she let on, words carefully considered before they left her mouth.

He downed the bottle anyways. For the same reason she did, because they both had a lot they wanted to forget.

"You shouldn't waste your time on shit you can't change. Yeah maybe you’re stuck with me, but if you need something and you’ll get it, you want to do something, we’ll do it.” She said firmly. “If I can find a way...I’ll free you. But until then you have a functional set of vocal cords, and I want you to use them.”

“A slave only in name” he mumbled absently, a promise of a reflection of the life he once had. To live on the other side. 

Charon thought that didn’t sound so bad.

After a good hour of Charlie telling drunken stories she probably thought humorous, and Charon only half listening, her demeanour seemed to change. The smile slid from her lips and she looked conflicted.

"Hey Charon, what do you think of me?" The question was uncharacteristic from her, a crack in her facade of unyielding certainty. She looked like a small child seeking reassurance.

"You are drunk."

"Ouch, way to break a girl's heart big guy," she laughed. "You're drunk too you know."

"I like you well enough, for a smoothskin."

"Well that's good I guess, I like you well enough for a ghoul. Though I hear Super Mutants are in season right now."

Charlie made a lot of references that he didn't understand. Some were from the vault, and some he suspected were cobbled together from the pre-war books and magazines she'd been raised on.

She closed the gap between them, crawling on top of the mattress with the finesse of a wasted raider, and now sat pressed to his side, head resting against his bicep. It was oddly intimate, and if it had been anybody else he probably would have pulled away. Charon felt a warmth pool deep in the pit of his stomach, a feeling that hadn’t stirred in a long  _ long _ time. 

He stiffened, but Charlie seemed too drunk to notice or care.

“Is this okay?” he heard her whisper. 

He chose not to answer, and instead awkwardly wrapped an arm around her. It would probably be uncomfortable in the sober light of morning, but right now his brain was too marinated in alcohol to think about it. It just felt nice, to hold her like this. 

"You're warm big guy, like a giant teddy bear…” she smiled lazily. “They’re like yao guai, but don’t eat your face...it’s nice," her eyes drifted closed and sleep overtook her, still pressed snugly into the crook of the ghoul's arm.

Charon raised an eyebrow at yet another odd reference he didn't understand, settling in to keep watch for what remained of the night. There was still quite a bit of vodka left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Charlie dispenses trash talk, drunk wisdom, and inappropriate cuddling. 
> 
> This was the first chapter I wrote, and I had originally intended for it to be the starting chapter. So this drunk scene served to develop a lot of Charlie’s personality, as well as the sassy dialogue option from the game, and a bit of my own bad humour. I tried to chisel this chapter for waaay too long, and I'm not really happy with it, but here it is!
> 
> Poem in the beginning is from Disney’s Alice in Wonderland.  
> As always constructive criticism, comments, and kudos are much appreciated! :-)


	4. The Sober Light of Morning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always kudos, comments, and constructive criticism are greatly appreciated. <3

Charon woke the next morning as the sun peeked over the horizon, greeting him with a pounding headache and a hangover. Charlie had a slender arm draped across his chest, and was still snuggled securely into the bend of his shoulder. It was an intimate picture, like two lovers the morning after if they’d fucked in full armor and then slept in it.

Charon rarely slept, but at some point last night the alcohol had caught up to him, and he'd drifted off to sleep beside the warm smoothskin. It was relatively safe he’d decided, sleep clouding his better judgement. It wasn’t as though the greenskins would be likely to know how to operate an elevator, nor was it likely it would support their mass. The brass box had groaned and protested unhappily under his own weight as they rode up the right before.

Charlie’s breath was soft on his chest, and she shivered and snuggled a little closer, using him as a warm shield against the frosty morning. She looked so peaceful asleep, unguarded and...well...pressed up against him. She was a very beautiful woman, and Charon’s anatomy was reacting accordingly.

In retrospect, falling asleep may not have been the best idea.

Her sleepy eyes blinked open, meeting his as he watched her. “Good morn- oh...uhh...sorry big guy,” Charlie mumbled, awkwardly detangling herself from the ghoul and rolling off the mattress to safety. There was no way she hadn’t feel the hard length of Charon’s erection pressed against her thigh, but she didn’t comment on it either.

“Sorry, alcohol makes me a bit too friendly. I promise to keep my hands and feet to myself from now on.” She placed a hand over her heart in mock prayer, before promptly emptying her stomach over the edge of the landmark monument, her system rejecting the familiar poison.

Charon thought about telling her it was okay, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to reinforce the behaviour. He would be of little use as a guard should he fell asleep again, and the contract demanded he remain vigilant at all times. At least, that’s what he convinced himself it was about.

So he shrugged, his face a mask of indifference.

They descended from the tower in silence, Charlie checking her pip boy to assess the functionality of the dish she’d installed the night before. “Well it works...that’s good,” she mumbled to no one in particular, chewing on her lip.

\--

She didn’t speak to him the entirety of the way back to the GNR building plaza, and Charon wondered if he had done something wrong. If waking up to the sight of his disfigured face may have made her think twice about the promises she'd made him, and her dependence on alcohol.

“Shit that’s one big ugly bastard” a tinny laugh rang from the power armor clad knight. “Hope you’ve got that ghoul of yours on a tight leash, I’d hate to have to clean it off my boots later-”

Charlie shot him a prickly look and the man fell silent. They were frightened of her, that was rather unexpected. Charon wondered what she might have done to earn that sort of respect from men who had little respect for anything at all. He remembered from his time in Underworld that the Brotherhood of Steel weren’t above taking potshots at ghouls. They’d grazed Willow a few times, and killed some of the more unfortunate drifters, but never seemed brave enough to venture into the depths of hell itself.

He wondered if this was how Charlie felt in Underworld, out of place and _wrong_. No, Charlie had walked through the front doors of the Ninth Circle like she’d owned the place. Charon just felt uncomfortable in what little skin he had left.

As they ascended through the building, the ever watchful eyes of the Brotherhood prickled at at the back of his neck. Helmets and goggles distorting their faces into something foreign and uncomfortable.

Charlie had subtly placed herself between him and the steel knights at every turn until they were trekking up the final staircase, as if her small frame would be any of any help should they decided to start shooting. Still, the gesture did not go unnoticed by Charon.

He’d heard Three Dog on the radio for years in the Ninth Circle, and recognised the man immediately as Charlie toed open the door. He looked like an _asshole_.

"Well aaalright, I knew when I saw you that you were a lady who could get shit done," Three-dog exclaimed with a wide grin, not even bothering to stand from his swivelling chair.

This small man had sent a lone child into the heart of DC, to what should very well have been her death- for a _satellite dish_. He had used Charlie. Risking her life, for the good of many the man probably thought. Funny how few in positions of power were willing to tan their own hides.

Charon glowered with arms crossed, causing Three Dog to shift uneasily in his seat. He derived a bit of pleasure from the intimidation, being able to make the other squirm like that. If it weren't for the contract, the man would have spent the remainder of the evening searching the floor for his missing teeth.

His thoughts were oddly protective he noted. The contract forced him into safeguarding his employers, but this was his first time he felt he might actually care what happened to one. It had made little difference to him in the past if they lived or died, beyond what he was obligated to do to protect them.

He'd _hated_ her at first, buying him like a dog. Just as he’d hated all of his former employers. Even after she'd offered him his contract, freedom he couldn't even taste, he thought it no more than a ruse, just another cruel way to etch the words of the document deeper into his flesh. He'd spent the first few weeks glaring knives into the back of her skull. He’d never wished her dead, but a stray bullet through the knee would have been immensly satisfying.

But it wasn’t long before he'd grown indifferent to her, then tolerant, and now protective, curious...and a little sexually confused.

“Yeah yeah, thrill of a fucking lifetime. I love getting shot at by giant green men,” Charlie said dryly.

“Chill out girl, you know, you’re so unlike your father.”

_Father?_

Charlie snorted. “Whatever, just give me the coordinates so I can get the fuck out of this place. All this testosterone shoved into power armor is unsettling.”

“Won’t argue with you there girl,” Three Dog chuckled. “Well, you filled your end of the bargain, so ol’ Three Dog can’t let you walk away empty handed.” The man handed her a scrap of paper with a series of numbers, coordinates which Charlie punched into the map on her pip boy. _Rivet City_ the the little light flashed, their next stop.

“Yeah, thanks.”

“Hey, this mean more to me than you realize. I know I didn’t give you much of a choice...but man, if it wasn't for my baby, I think I would have gone crazy by now. The enclave radio is full of shit, and people _need_ to hear the truth. We gotta work together to make this place better, not to wait for some fictional government to blast in and save the day. Who knows how old that signal is, and...if there is an enclave, where the hell are they while all this shit is going down?"

Charlie smiled. “Keep fighting the good fight, Three Dog”

“You too miss saviour of the wastes,” he grinned in jest.

In the back of his mind Charon wonders if it’s part of the reason she helped Three Dog...if it’s part of the reasons she helped _him_ . Some part of Charlie cared about the people around her, an unfortunate shred empathy that had long since been bred out of most wastelanders. _Saviour of the Wastes_ , it fit. But Charon was realising it sounded grimly close to _martyr_.

They made their way down to the bowels of the GNR building, edging closer to freedom.

“I don't want to stop to patch you up here. I'm afraid if I tried, they’d shoot you and claim they thought you were a feral or something,” she hummed as they walked through a corridor. “Kind of counter intuitive when I'm trying to _remove_ bullets. ‘Sides, you’ll be fine until Rivet City. I'll rent a proper room there and you can sleep it off for a few days.”

 _Sleep_ .. _.for a few days_? Charon couldn't remember the last time he'd had a respite, even a brief one.

“Sound good?”

“Okay.”

“Oh stop, your enthusiasm is overwhelming,” she said dryly.

An unarmored knight and his friend whistled at Charlie as they past. “Hey pretty lady, didn’t think I’d see you back here so soon,” the man called out smoothly to her. “This is the girl I was telling you about, took down a Behemoth with a .308 gauge rifle.” he grinned to his friend.

“Holy shit, good to meet you,” the other replied, looking her over.

They both had enough skin that it made what was left of Charon’s prickle.

Charlie turned to greet them, offering a polite hand and a practiced smile, and gesturing dismissively for Charon to remain where he was.

Charon’s grip tightened on his shotgun, but the men hadn’t done anything that would justify shooting them. Not yet atleast.

He’d seen her do this before, _flirt_ . Usually to get something she needed without resorting to violence or bribery. He’d seen the logic in it before. It was a very utilitarian tactic, made people like her, therefore making his job easier. But now...it frustrated him, just the _tiniest_ bit.

Charon blocked out the noise, keeping his eyes fixed on her location for any signs of danger.

Before long Charlie had finished chatting, and made her way back to where she’d left her ghoul.

“What’s with the frown big guy?”

“I thought you might be longer,” he grumbled.

Charlie snorted.

“I got information about a safe...well relatively safe route to travel the rest of the way to Rivet City.” she said, giving him an inquisitive look. “What, you think I was going to let them double team me or something?” She waggled an eyebrow. “I'm not that much of a perv…” Charlie trailed off, probably remembering the night before.

No, Charlie had never followed through with any of her flirtation. She kept that suit of hers zipped tightly up to the tuck of her chin. Never disappearing to spend the night in the bed of a warm smoothskin, though she’d had plenty of opportunity. She was a woman entirely focused on one goal, though what that was he still didn’t know. Charon wouldn’t ask, and she never brought up what it was that she was so fixated on finding.

She coughed awkwardly, as if it would be enough to change the topic.

Charlie was a wary person, yet she seemed to have come to trust him. He’d been the only one to wrap his arms around her, the only one she’d rested her head against, trusted enough to watch her back and fall asleep next to.

He thought that maybe, just maybe, he was starting to trust her a little too.

“...Anyways, let’s blow this joint,” she said, slinging her rifle over her shoulder and waiting for him to follow her out into the frozen heart of DC.

_To Rivet City._


	5. Dark Places

The metro tunnels.  _ Safe _ passage, sure. It felt more like trading in super mutants for feral ghouls, though she supposed that was a compromise she could live with. The ferals didn't pay any mind to Charon, but to her they were drawn likes flies to rotting meat. Taking opportunity at every turn to try and sink their teeth into her smoothskin hide. 

Lucky for Charlie, her ghoul was bigger.

Charon cracked the butt of his gun against a feral’s head as it took notice of them, the sickly crunch of its skull being caved in echoing through the tubular corridor.

Charlie shivered, drawing her knife closer to her chest. Like in the old zombie movie, gunfire would only draw more of them out of hiding. Like moths to a flame...really big carnivorous moths, with beady little eyes and sharp teeth. They were low on ammo too, so it made sense tactically. Though Charlie would have felt a lot better about shooting them.

She let her thoughts wander in the lull between violence as they trekked through the dark pre-war tunnels.

Charon was different now, she’d caught him staring at her with this  _ look _ more than once. He probably thought she was some kind of weird pervert...though to be honest, that was probably a fair enough assessment. What the hell had she been thinking? Getting drunk like that and coming on to him, it was a new low for her amongst this newfound high of freedom.

Suddenly she felt strong hands grip her wrists, and the ghoul was pushing her up against the stone wall of an impasse, covering her mouth and shaking his head. "Glowing one," he whispered. "Not that way."

She nodded in understanding and he released her, much more flustered than before. He seemed to notice, his icy gaze lingering on her burning cheeks for longer than would have been necessary.

She thought back to the hardness pressed against her thigh...he'd been  _ very _ aroused. It wasn't as though she hadn't been really curious, but even Charlie knew those boots were a little too big for her. He was as big as a mountain, and one that Charlie was  _ oh so _ tempted to climb...but there was not way that was going to work. Not to mention the  _ small  _ _dilemma_  of him practically being her slave.

Yup, Charlie was going to hell. 

Somewhere on a deeper level she knew it wasn’t about physical attraction, though that didn’t hurt either. If Charlie was being completely honest with herself, she’d always been alone, never having somebody so invested in her well being. 

_ He doesn’t really care about you.  _

She  _ knew _ it was just the contract, and that left her with a hollow, bittersweet feeling. 

He would have crushed her neck with one world from Ahzrukhal, and it made her wonder how many people he’d hurt before. Did it hurt him too? To do things like that.

Charlie wasn’t sure she believed in souls, but the concept left her wondering if there was anything left inside of the ghoul anymore. Or if he was no more than an empty husk, the shell of the person he once must have been.

She imagined the metal walls of the vault echoing with that terrible silence that fueled the darkness in her mind.  _ Alone, alone, you’ll die out here and nobody will know, nobody will care. He’ll take his contract and move on, uncaring, unfeeling, and become the slave to a new master. _

_ You can’t help him, and he won't blink when your blood is drying in the dirt. _

Charlie clenched her jaw.  _ Go away, go away, please go away, _ she internally yelled against the dark corners of her mind.

“Boss,” his hushed growl rumbled through the intrusive thoughts, as he gestured silently to a maintenance room.  _ Good _ , hopefully there would be some locks to pick in there, or something else she could distract herself with. 

Charon entered first, inspecting the room for any danger, before nodding for her to follow him inside.

Charlie spotted a heavy duty safe and pulled a bobby pin free from her tangled mess of curls. She knelt beside the box and worked the pin in the practiced rhythmic motion that she knew would earn her results.

“ _ Puta madre, _ ” she cursed as the tiny bit of metal caught in one of the locking mechanisms and snapped clean. She turned to pull more pins from her pack and notices Charon quietly observing her from a spot against the wall. He looked just like he did the day she first met him in the Ninth Circle, but now the ghoul looked far from bored. 

“What, you wanna give it a go?” she asked before turning back to her objective. 

“No. I was wondering what language you were speaking.”

“Sorry what?” Charlie asked absently.

“You were talking to yourself.”

“Oh...uh Spanish,” she answered dumbly. “My...uhh some people in the vault spoke it before the war, and they passed it down.”

The lock clicked open and Charlie smiled victoriously. She started on a container of ammunition, pausing as the ghoul knelt down behind her, the heat radiating from his body giving away his proximity.

“You are very proficient with a bobby pin.”

_ I'm good with a lot of things _ the words died in her mouth, and she sucked in a calming breath. "I had to learn to pick locks just to move around the vault, place was just a series of rooms and locked doors. Plus, what else was I going to do to pass the time?"

Charlie chuckled to herself. Who knew all the sketchy shit she got up to in that cement box would make for valuable life skills out here in the real world. In there she was no more than a trouble maker, a brat, but here she might very well be on par with the most seasoned of veteran scavvers. She remembered how Charon had glared at a man who spat the word at them. Charlie wasn't stupid, she could gather it was supposed to be an insult, but it was a poor one at that. Scavengers might as well be the lifeblood of the Capital Wasteland, and that’s exactly what she was. 

"You were a thief?" He asked. 

Charlie regarded him with a half grin. "What, that offend your sensibilities big guy? If it'll bring back the warm fuzzies, I was more of a break and enter artist. Used this fine tool of freedom-” she said, gesturing to the brass pin. “-to go places. Open doors, service tunnels, air ducts, and so forth. People never really noticed, and I was always there to play locksmith when people got locked out of their shit."

_ And then they tried to murder you.  _

Charlie stood up stiffly, shoving the contents of the safe into a duffle bag and offering it to Charon. "Not much we can use, but we’ll sell it when we get to Rivet City and buy shit we need."

Charon slung the bag over a shoulder and nodded, regarding her curiously. 

Somehow it was so much worse than the glaring. At least then she could tell what he was thinking, now she hadn't the foggiest idea what the fuck he found so interesting.

“Why did you leave the vault?” 

“That’s...uh well that’s a long story. It just wasn’t safe for me there any more.” 

Charon nodded and didn’t press further. No more attempts were made at conversation, and she was surprised he’d asked at all. She supposed this was probably progress from one-word answers and his perpetual poop face.

The tunnels were colder than the outlying frozen Wasteland from lack of sunlight. And Charlie shivered, pulling her leather coat closer to her body. Before Charon it was the only thing that made her feel safe, a bitter reminder of the tiny piece of  family she’d had to leave behind. 

Her hand instinctively went to the device affixed to her wrist, and she clicked on the flashlight. The pipboy had taken a few too many beatings, and the radio shrieked to life concurrently, the voice of Three Dog ringing through the still air. 

“ffssst--other vault dweller! And it gets better kids! Turns out vault dweller number two is none other than--fffsst--traveling with one giant ghoul-”

Charlie quickly hit the off button, gaze flicking apprehensively to the ghoul. But he made no comment, looking back at her through half lidded eyes.

As they reached the exit from the metro tunnel, they were greeting with the cold daylight dappling through the metal mesh like something divine just beyond reach. Charlie threw open the gates, so glad to finally have reached the non-metaphorical light at the end of the very dark tunnel.

The scorching white of the sun made her vision swim with little spots of light...

And then everything went dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Charlie really needs to pay attention to where she’s going, I bet she walked into a wall. As always constructive criticism, comments, and kudos are much appreciated! :-)


	6. Of China Dolls and Broken Things

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for my long absence, I have been a busy bee doing important life stuff. I have a bunch of chapters nearly finished, so I’m going to try to get those up soon to move this story along...so that it deserves that explicit rating. ;-D
> 
> This chapter is pretty short, but as always kudos, comments, and critiques are super appreciated!

The first warning he got that something wasn't right was a loud crack, followed by the sight of Charlie’s crumpled body on the ground.

 _Danger_ , his mind screamed. _Protect the contract holder._

The familiar rush of hot adrenalin seared through his body like wildfire, coaxing every worn muscle and frayed nerve into high alert. Charon saw two men, black uniforms with a crude white insignia, heavily armed. Talon mercenaries, traveling in small units, trained thugs. Dispatch quickly, without drawing attention to self.

"Well if it isn't the little _saint_ from the vault. You've got quite a price on your head girly."

Charlie groaned incoherently from her spot of the ground, but didn’t stir. Good, she was still alive.

"You think you can go around doin’ the things you do, and nobody is gonna take notice? Such a waste. You’re a sweet lookin’ little thing, and seems like you got some pretty useful skills." He sneered, readying his rifle and pointing it at her slack body.

"Too bad. Say goodnight you little b-"

He shot the first, the metallic rounds ripping through the man’s neck and torso. The second merc reached for his pistol, but Charon smashed his forehead into the raider's, drawing a bloodied cry from the degenerate throat. The man staggered back, and before he’d found his footing Charon caved in his skull with the butt of his gun.

He heard the release of a safety.

Shit, three. Charon spun, only to find a laser rifle aimed dead center to his chest, right above the line of his armor.

“I don’t think so zombie, drop the gun.”

Charon slowly lowered his shotgun.

Gravity seemed to catch up with the last merc then, and his body crashed against the tarmac like a ragdoll. One clean shot through the back of his skull, crimson blooming across his features forever frozen in surprise. Behind him was Charlie, who’d propped herself up against the brick metro wall, tiny pistol still aimed at the ghost of the bad man.

She groaned again, dropping the pistol and clutching her bruised face, chest rising and falling with the weight of each staggered breath.

Charon closed the gap between them in a few long strides. "Are you alright boss?" He asked in a level voice.

Charlie nodded, an amused smile painting her lips. She seemed to find it funny how calm he was, as if they hadn’t just brutally killed three men and nearly died.

"Your head is pretty hard isn't it, remind me never to piss you off, big guy," she joked, but her voice was coarse and scratchy. She tried and failed to use the wall behind her to find steady footing. "I think you're going to have to help me up...my knees don’t want to do knee stuff.”

Charon firmly took hold of her sides and helped her to her feet, supporting her slight weight so that she wouldn’t topple over. She was badly shaken, Charon noted. Though she didn't voice it, he could see the slight quiver in her knees and that uncertain edge to her voice as she quickly tried to compose herself, to pull the mask back on.

The collar of her vault suit had come undone in the scuffle, and he was greeted with the sight of angry pink gashes.

 _She’s hurt_ , his mind screamed.

He ripped down the zipper of her suit, trying to find the source of the injury...and that’s when he saw it. Her body was marred, but the wounds had long since healed. Straight jagged slices scarred over ran the length of her small torso like cracked china, from her neck, over bra-covered breasts, stomach, and down to parts unknown. There were _words_ carved into her skin too. Charon could make out _cunt_ scrawled across her chest in tight cruel strokes, as is if somebody had thought to engrave bad poetry into the delicate curves of her body.

Charon realized too late that she’d been hiding it.

He didn’t have a chance to respond...to explain, before Charlie pushed him hard in the chest, recoiling and crashing backwards onto the hard asphalt. She tried to cover herself, tugging the edges of her vault suit closed, as if forgetting altogether how to use the zipper.

He thought she might be frightened at first, fingers tearing at her clothes as though he might have _wanted_ something. But she finally looked up to meet his horrified gaze, a tight _false_ smile on her lips.

"Not such a smoothskin after, right?" There is was, that dark humour, and Charon realized it was all a coping mechanism. Layers upon layers of sass and teeth to protect her from all the dangers of the wasteland. He'd seen through the cracks, and there she finally was underneath it all. _Afraid._

Charon felt sick, and he was sure she could read it plain as day across his face.

Charlie just laughed. “Let’s go, Charon.” 


	7. Teeth, Nails and Puppy Dog Tails

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m so excited for Bethesda’s E3 announcement today, that I ended up finishing this chapter in the middle of the night last night. So here it is! 
> 
> As always kudos, comments, and critiques are great. :-D

Charon never comments about the scars, but Charlie eventually tells him the story anyway. He's noticed she does that, answering questions he hasn't even asked yet. They’d only just arrived in Rivet City, and Charon watched her hanging off the rail which overlooked the city of DC, cast in the warm glow of a nuclear sunset. The frozen old metropolis looked almost peaceful this way, as if it wasn’t a death trap filled to the brim with hardened raiders and greenskins.

Charlie had insisted on a beer before entering the city. No hard liquor, just something to relax as they watched the sun disappear over the horizon.  

Charon sat on the hard rusted metal of the boat docking bridge as he finished his second bottle. It was still strange to him, these small kind gestures that she paid him. A beer here, a stimpack there, words of appreciation or even just a genuine smile...it gave him pause every time.

"It's so beautiful, you can see forever. We didn't have anything like this in the vault." She sighed, a content smile on her face.

Charon nodded absently “Underworld was not well known for its view either.” He stole another glance at her, only to find her looking back at him. 

“Hey Charon...I’ve been wondering. The contract only talks about protecting the contract holder, and obeying orders, but it doesn't really elaborate. What about non combat stuff, like if I ordered you to have sex with me or something, would you do it?"

Charon sputtered his beer, gaping at her with poorly hidden surprise. 

"Yes." 

"Man that's fucked up," she whistled. 

He realized she’d meant would he have to, because of the contract. Not would he immediate push her up against a wall and fuck her until she screamed his name over and over again, if given the chance. Charon wasn't sure which question he had answered. 

It left him with a guilty feeling, to be desiring her in that way. A way that she would never want him. She needed his protection, maybe a friend, but nothing more. 

Especially after what she’d told him next. 

Charlie took another swig from her beer “You’re probably wondering about the scars. I appreciate you not asking, but then again I guess you don’t talk much anyways,” she hummed. The look on her face was out of place, she looked so young then, lonely, yearning. Like a lost child.

"I was so cocky when I left the vault, thought I could take on anything this wasteland threw at me and keep on going. I was tough, for a vault kid I guess. I’m not dead after all.” She said, looking over the city wistfully. “I’d only been out for about a month when a group of raiders found me. I was used to people just shooting at me, but these ones were different. Sadistic."

"They carved me up pretty bad, took piece after piece of me away until there wasn’t a whole lot left. I’m pretty sure I could see my insides at one point...but they took a lot more than just my skin. When they were done with me they assumed I was dead. Hell, I thought I was dead...I used to wish I had been."

Her body language changed then, and she sat up a little straighter as if she’d been reinflated. "Guess I'm lucky they didn't touch my face," she chuckled with an expression that couldn’t quite pass as a smile. 

She had been undone, Charon realized. Much like himself.

“After I’d piece myself back together, I spent the next week hunting ‘em down, and slit their throats while they slept.” She said flatly, running a hand through her tangled mess of dark curls. "After that I changed, I was a lot more careful. It's funny, I think if not for that I'd be dead in a ditch somewhere by now."

_ It wasn't funny _ .

“Do they hurt?” Charon asked, his question a reflection of her own from that drunken night in the tower.

Charlie snorted. “Okay, fair enough. Nah, some of the deeper ones didn’t heal right and they sometimes open back up,” she answered, her warm breath foggy in the frigid winter air. “But I’ve gotten used to it. Not going to complain to a ghoul about a couple of scars.”

Charon nodded.

"The worst part is really not being able to itch the ones on my back properly." 

Charon chuckled, and for the first time in a long time he smiled.

"Wow, I’ve never seen you give a real not-murdering-somebody smile before." She beamed, patting him on the arm and linger for just a touch too long. 

He turned to her to her with words on the edge of his tongue, but she was already turning away. The moment had passed. 

“Anyway, listen to me nattering on. Let’s get you fixed up big guy,” she threw the empty bottle at the street far below, shattering it against the tarmac. 

“Then we can both hibernate ‘til it's not so fucking cold out.”

She has been shaped by her environment, carved and scarred by the sharp teeth and nails of the wasteland. But what surprised him most is that it did little to dull her spirit. Charlie was a survivor...much like himself. 

Maybe they weren't so different after all. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another itty bitty chapter, sorry! The Rivet City chapter was originally suuuuper long, so I had to split it up into a few different part.


	8. The Sinking Ship

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally a decent size chapter! I’m having a lot of fun writing this, so I’m happy so many people are enjoying reading it. As always kudos, comments, and constructive criticism is greatly appreciated! I really do mean that, I have zero writing experience and always appreciate feedback. <3

_ Rivet City _ . To Charon it was the defining example of human ingenuity...and  _ stupidity _ . The hallways supported their weight with a creek and a shutter as they descended into the bowels of the metal ship. The sound of mechanical engines whirring and groaning echoed deep throughout the hull as they walked on.

The Weatherly hotel was a lot more hospitable than anything the underworld had to offer, and Charon found himself surprised at how clean the whole place was.

“We’d like to rent a room for a few days, double bed.” Charlie said, placing a handful of caps on the tidy counter.

The woman gave her a curious look, but accepted the caps and handed her the keys without further questions. “Room three”, she said, watching them all the way until they had rounded the corner and the door clicked closed behind them. 

“Man I miss having a bed. I slept in one everyday when I was in the vault and never gave it a second thought, now it's such a rare luxury.” Charlie beamed, flopping down on the bed and tangling herself in the scratchy blankets. She stole a quick peek at the tall ghoul, who wore a confused expression. 

“Why the face?”

“She likely believes we are sleeping together,” Charon frowned.

“So?” Charlie questioned with a raised eyebrow.

Charon opened his mouth, but hadn’t expected that sort of reply, and ended up looking more like a fish out of water. “There are humans who would wish to harm you if they thought you were laying with a ghoul.”

“Aww are you concerned about my rep big guy?” Charlie grinned, rolling off the bed with flourish to stand again. “Well better she thinks I’m fucking you on her bed, than...” she chuckled, withdrawing a medkid from her backpack and prepping a syringe of med-x. “It will only be minimally invasive, but we’re still going to make a bit of a...mess.”

Charlie punctuated her sentence with a wink, which sent a tingly jolt straight to Charon’s groin. She was _flirting_? Never without an objective...but Charon couldn’t pinpoint what she could possibly want from him.

Charlie just smiled at him cryptically, before chuckling.

“I got a bigger bed ‘cause you’re so massive that you’d likely break a single. Take your armor off and lay down. You can leave your underwear on, I know you’re shy.” She gently teased, shedding her own jacket and armor until she was left wearing only her vault suit. She tied her dark curls into a ponytail with a scrap of cloth, and snapped on a pair of sterile gloves from a sealed package.

Charon set his armor down in a corner and paused. There was no fooling himself into thinking he was anything less than horrifying to look at without his clothes on. He could feel the suffocating weight of Charlie’s gaze on him, waiting for him to comply. So he sucked in a deep breath and unbuttoned his shirt, letting the worn fabric fall to the ground, and unbuckled the clasp of his belt. The strap must have been at least the width of Charlie’s arm...what was she, a standard of measurement now?

Charon grumbled. Pulling the leather pants from his legs, until he was left wearing only an old pair of boxers and the bandages she’d wrapped around him back in DC. The sterile white contrasting starkly against his angry red body.

When he was completely undressed he sat down on the bed, feeling utterly exposed. His skin was molted and ragged, ravaged long ago by nuclear war. It had never been a point of internal conflict for Charon before, but he had always been a tool of violence, a bodyguard, a bouncer, a mercenary, a _weapon_...never a person. Never stripping bare for a woman who was trying to extract years of cruelty from his body.

Charlie’s eyes were cool as she pulled a wooden chair next to the bed and seated herself there. Her face was blank, but he could see that her body was stiff, muscles tense as if ready for flight. Like she was forcing herself not to run away...or perhaps vomit.

“I’m going to give you enough Med-x that you should hopefully fall asleep. I’ve never worked on somebody as big as you or a ghoul before, so I might have to give you a few doses before it takes effect. Okay?”

Charon nodded, laying with his back flat on the bed, his feet dangling comically off the end.

He felt the tiny needle break through his skin, and then everything after that was fuzzy.

—

There wasn’t as much blood as she’d expected.

It was weird, being so close to him like this. It had been long time since she’d been this close to anybody. Well, beside that one time she got drunk and attached herself to his chest like a baby koala.

Charlie coughed.

She’d drunk every time she’d come close to dying, it had become almost a ritual since the first time. She smiled at the memory of stealing booze from Butch’s mom, and getting drunk in the little alcove on top of the radiator where only tiny bodies could fit. Vodka was the woman’s choice of poison, and it had become Charlie’s too. The bitter taste fueling her nostalgic, and reminding her of softer times and smaller worries. It all seemed so insignificant now, everything that came before she left. She wondered what Butch was doing right now, if he was okay. More than anything she hoped he didn’t follow her, that he was still safe inside the vault...Somehow she knew that was a hollow prayer.

She ran her hand through her hair, and looked down at the unconscious ghoul on the bed. Now that she wasn’t alone anymore she’d probably have to find a new coping mechanism, but she wasn’t sure that staring at Charon’s arms as he killed stuff was any healthier.

_But man, did he ever have some nice arm._

Charlie sighed as she finished re-wrapping a wound on his thick bicep. She’d pulled so many bullets from his battered body, and this one, _this one was because of her._

Something caught the corner of her eye and she turned his wrist over. Hollow stars speckled the inside of his forearm, almost too faint to see. _Scars maybe_? They were so old that she couldn’t quite tell, and she wondered if Charon even remembered where they were from. He didn’t like to talk about his past, and though he hadn’t voiced it, Charlie was pretty sure he couldn’t remember a lot of it either. Cherished memories worn away by the passage of time, nightmares blocked out as a way to cope. After being alive for over two hundred years maybe it was better to forget, easier.

She dropped his arm as the ghoul began to stir.

—

_Charon...charon…_

The familiar voice called to him in his sleep.

That soft feminine tone that haunted his nightmares, cutting into his subconscious like glass. It was such a deceiving voice, so angelic, like that of a wolf in lamb’s skin.

Yet he walked forward without hesitation, without the luxury of hesitation, towards the looming steel door at the end of the hallway. As he drew near the familiar metallic tang licked at his nostrils. The door handle was cold. And inside, only darkness.

His eyes snapped open and his hand wrapped itself tightly around the offender’s throat, like a dog going in for the kill.

“Cha-“

Muffled gasps escaped the throat clenched in his massive fist, and little hands grasped lamely at his wrist, before his brain registered wide brown eyes and he lets go, passing back out.

Charlie gave him a wide berth after that.

—

His eyes drifted open again, and Charlie was checking his wounds, rebandaging his chest, and he wondered why she was changing them so soon...no...how long he had been asleep?

“Hey big guy,” she said cautiously. Picking up a warm washcloth and running it over Charon’s forehead, wiping away the perspiration that had gathered there.

He tried to stand, but she pressed a gentle hand to his chest to keep him prone.

“No. I did amazing work, and you’re going to _appreciate_ that by not reopening all of your wounds and dying on me.” She grinned, patting him on the chest. “Besides, if you pass out on the floor, I’m leaving you there.”

She stood up and stretched, as though he’d been sitting there for a long while. “I’m going to head to the marketplace for supplies, try to get some more rest.”

“No...I will…will accompany you…” he said, surprised at how incoherent his own voice sounded. It had been a long time since he’d been this incapacitated, this _vulnerable_ , the effects of the drugs still slowing his mind and weighing down his body.

Charlie seemed to sense his discomfort and softened, pressing a warm palm to the side of his face, like a parent comforting a sick child.

“Don’t worry Charon, you’re safe.”

It was the last thing the ghoul heard before he was overcome by fatigue. His body demanding rest.

—

When Charon woke again, Charlie was nowhere to be seen, and he realized through the foggy haze that he must find his employer.

There was a makeshift cot set up on the ground beside the bed, pillows and blankets strewn about. He wondered how long he'd been out. If she’s needed to make herself a place to sleep it had to be at least a full day.

He groaned, rubbing his head. He’d let his guard down and now his em- now Charlie was gone. She could be hurt or dead and he had been _sleeping_. He’d been foolish to let this happen, to put himself in a situation where he couldn’t protect her. Charon clenched his teeth, sitting up and throwing his legs over the side of the bed, this time without collapsing.

Charon was ready to tear down the door, when it cracked open of its own accord and Charlie stepped through, packs filled with supplies clutched in her arms.

He must have had quite the expression on his face, as she chuckled the moment she spotted him looming behind the door frame.

“Hey! You're awake, how are you feeling big guy?”

Charon felt lighter, as though a weight had been lifted from his body. He supposed it had. It took a moment for his mind to still, to calm himself before he answered.

“...Good.”

Charlie grinned. “That’s good. You heal pretty fast. I don't know much about ghoul anatomy, but the water around here is pretty irradiated and dosing you with it seemed to have a positive effect on your recovery.”

Charlie struggled to close the door behind her, and he stepped forwards to take the heavy bags from her arms. She wasn’t a tall woman to begin with, but she barely came to his chest in close proximity.

“Oh...” Charlie exclaimed softly, her face going a little pink as she handed the supplies over.

"I removed what I could get to and patched you up the best I could, but there were some close to your vital organs and spine that I didn't want to touch. They've been there a while, so you shouldn't have to worry much about them getting infected or migrating, but I'll keep an eye on them just to be sure. Let me know if anything starts hurting or you feel feverish."

"...There will be some scarring...but I guess you're probably not too worried about that," she said a little awkwardly, rubbing the back of her neck. She seemed to be talking to fill the quiet at this point.

"Thank you."

Charlie must have replied, but he was too focused on the expression she was giving him. It was odd, out of place, _embarrassed_ . Charon frowned, looked down, and discovered the likely cause of her strange behaviour. He wasn’t wearing any clothes. Only the soft white bandages, a pair of boxers, and... _great_.

Charon wasn’t unhappy it still worked, but it often picked the most inopportune times to do so.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Charlie’s a bit more awkward when things go past flirting. 
> 
> And now I leave you with this awkward boner cliffhanger! Will they do something about it this time? Will Charlie run away again? Will super mutants bust in and kill everybody? Is the fallout world flat? Bees?


	9. The Coming of a Storm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always comments, kudos, and criticism is greatly appreciated! Next chapter comes with an illustration. ;-D

“My apologies,” Charon grumbled. Reaching for his clothes and pulling on a pair of black leather pants.

“It’s okay...it’s nice to be somewhere for a bit were we don’t have to worry as much about wearing armour and being shot at.” Charlie mused, fiddling absently with the tie of her zipper. “I’m um...going to change too,” was all the warning Charon got before the small woman began to strip off her jacket and armor. Sliding out of her vault suit, and letting the worn fabric fall to the floor.

Her bare arms and thighs were carved up too, matching the scars he'd seen across her chest. The crude cicatrice encircled her slender limbs as though she’d been wrapped in thorned opulence. Beneath them she was all lean muscle and bone, delicate hands ending in even more fragile fingers. He wondered if she was the image that came to mind when people thought of the Saviour of the Wastes, or did they conjure somebody heroic; a strong, sturdy and well muscled woman. Did they picture somebody else?

Perhaps it was the fierce burning in those dark eyes of hers that people remembered. Charon had heard long ago that the eyes were the window to the human soul. If he was to believe that true, Charlie's held the promise of a reckoning.

Charon supposed that must be what people saw. _The coming of a storm._

Beneath the suit she wore a simple cotton bra and underwear, the soft whites contrasting against her darker scarred flesh. She pulled on a oversized t-shirt with an ad for Nuka-Cola that looked big enough that it might fit Charon, and a pair of _very short_ shorts. With her vault suit and armour on she looked like just another scrawny wastelander kid, but the flimsy clothes she wore now did little to hide that she was very obviously a woman. Small breasts swelled and dipped like ripe fruit beneath the thin fabric, and wider hips tapered to a thin waist, the elastic band of her shorts lazily accentuating the curve of her body. Her legs were above all the sturdiest looking part of her, curved muscular thighs conforming into a tight heart-shaped butt.

Charon wondered what it would be like to be between those legs, to rip off her little shorts, push himself inside of her and take her right there on the table. He wondered how his name would sound spoken from her soft lips, and how she would fit so perfectly in his arms as they lay down to rest after a long day. She would smile up at him, crack a bad joke, and then bury her face into his chest to drift off to sleep.

Charon’s heart was beating faster.

He didn't move from his spot on the wall, his expression remaining impassive. He wouldn't make a move. No, Charon wasn't deluded enough to think that she would be interested in a ghoul, and knew that it would likely result in his contract changing hands. More than he desired Charlie, he respected her. She treated him with a dignity he had long forgotten. She might even understand him having these kind of thoughts, allowing him this small measure of fantasizing about the woman that he was never meant to touche.

“You look like something’s eating you,” Charlie said on cue, almost as if she’d read the ghoul’s thoughts. She fished in her pack for a moment, before throwing  a little bag with an assortment of hard pastel spheres to him, which he caught out of the air with one hand.

"What is it?"

"Candy,”

"What am I supposed to do with it?"

"Uhh eat it...little slow on the uptake big guy," she said with a grin, hopping up on the table beside him. She unwrapped a piece and dropped it into Charon's open palm, her soft skin brushing against his arm. "It's hard candy, like we had back in the vault. They taste like old-world fruits." She smiled. "Difficult to find out here, but I came across some at the marketplace.”

He put one in his mouth, letting it rest on his tongue. It was little more than a mockery of fruit as the ghoul remembered it, the chemical flavour giving an artificial tang to the hard sugar ball. The vault dweller had probably never tasted never tasted a proper fruit. Still, the kindness of the gesture was not lost Charon. It was sweet, but with none of the unsavoury aftertaste of the stale cake treats or false smiles found throughout the wasteland. Just sweet.

"Good?" she queried, sliding under one of his oversized arms and unwrapping a sweet for herself.

Charon nodded.

Charlie popped a candy into her mouth, and he watched the way her wet tongue ran over pink lips, trying to enjoy every last bit of the rare sweetness. He wanted to lean forward and kiss her, and Charon realized his self control had never before been spread so thin.

"So, how are you feeling big guy? You’re making that face when you think about something really hard and try to hide it." She grinned.

"Fine."

"Well, looks like I wasn't able to remove the stick from your butt," she chuckled at her own joke.

Charon grunted, trying to will away the unwelcome thoughts and to stay composed.

"Hey, can I touch you?”

His eyes snapped to her.

"-Your arm I mean. I've never had a chance to touch a ghoul before. Sorry that came out wrong, I just..." She shifted nervously. “I mean I guess I touched you before when I was fixing you up, but that...I um…”

He stared at her for a moment, his gaze hard and heavy, as though she might be something tasty to eat. Before simply shoving an arm at her.

A bright smile bloomed across her face, dimpling her cheeks. “Is _all_ of you like this?” She asked, arm clutched between her hands, exploring his skin.

Charon could feel the blood rushing to his groin and he gave a small shudder.

“Sorry...am I hurting you?”

“No.”

They were close now, only a few inches from each other. Charon standing between her legs as she felt up his arm. He could have simply leaned over and been on top of her.

“...Okay, that’s good,” Charlie mumbled absently, still examining his arm with the all the curiosity of a smoothskin doctor. “You’re so warm.” Her gentle fingers caressed the scarred expanse of his arm, tracing where the flesh dipped and knitted together with muscle. She looked so completely in awe that for a moment he could almost fool himself into believing that she didn’t find him repulsive to look at.

“Hey Charon...do you find me attractive?”

Wait... _what_?

He definitely wasn’t imagining this. This wasn’t some sort of fucked up awkward sex dream, this was actually happening. She was flirting...no, _baiting_ him with risky question and hesitant touches. He wondered if Charlie was even aware she was doing it. When she flirted it was always confident and with purpose, now she just seemed uncertain, clumsy, and childish even. As though she were trying to work out real intimacy for the first time.

“ _Yes_.” It came out more like a growl.

There was no going back, no standing up straight and walking away. His mind was screaming at his body to move, to get away, not to hurt the contract holder. _Punishment punishment,_ it shrieked inside his head.

Charlie still held his arm, lips slightly parted, and watching him with intention.

The last shreds of Charon’s restrain snapped. He bent forwards and closed the small space between them, roughly pressing his lips against her softer ones. He took opportunity in her soft gasp to slip his tongue deeper into her mouth, exploring the unfamiliar depths of the woman he’d absently grown so fond of.

The large ghoul was leaning over the table, with his body pressed between her parted thighs. His enormous hands were tangled in her messy curls, holding her head to meet his lips. And Charlie was wrapping her leg around his waist, guiding his warm body flush against hers, hands exploring the expanse of his bare muscled chest, and-

All of a sudden she shoved him hard in the chest, not strong enough to move him, but enough to startle him out of the warm haze. “Charon mm... _stop_!”

He released her and pulled back as if he'd been slapped. Just as quickly as it had happened, they were drawing apart. Charlie flattening herself against the wall for distance. Her breaths were hitched and her face flushed, she looked so unsure. _Shit_. He had been _so_ _sure_.

“Charon…”

He stepped back, eyes scanning her face.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking, _this is_ _so wrong._ ”

He felt a crushing pressure in his chest. No that...she had just… _this wasn’t what he wanted at all._

_ Charon felt like a monster. _


	10. A Port in the Storm (Explicit)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: This chapter contains consensual, but pretty violent sex. So shield your eyes if you’re not into that, you can bounce on to the next chapter without missing anything important.
> 
> Charon’s spent as long back as he can remember being a weapon, and doesn't have much experience being anything more.
> 
> I made a tumblr [https://elfcandyart.tumblr.com/](https://elfcandyart.tumblr.com/post/176330344258/a-little-thing-i-did-of-charon-and-my-lone#notes) AND there's an illustration I did of Charon/Charlie against a wall there! Go check it out for more writing snippets and doodles, and please feel free to drop some writing requests into my ask box (Charon stuff will be filled the fastest and most enthusiastically.) <3

“Charon?”

His body had grown stiff as he tried to harden himself against any feeling. He had let himself desire her, how could he have been so foolish. No, it wasn't even just that, he  _ cared _ . 

Charlie sat on the desk sputtering apologies, and Charon just gritted his teeth. 

“Lo sien-I never should have...I just-I’m so sorry Charon, I feel like a monster.”

“ _ You _ feel like a monster?” he hissed, in what was probably too harsh of a tone. 

“I..I...have a fucking contract that states I own you. That you have to do whatever I ask. Christ, I even asked you a few days ago if you would fuck me if I  _ ordered _ you to,” Charlie said in little more than a whimper, trying to make her escape from his piercing gaze. 

“You think that I am doing this because of the  _ contract _ ?” He grabbed hold of her wrist, faltering her escape. “You never ordered me to have sex with you, and frankly if you chose to do so I would not be entirely opposed.”

“I...we can’t-”

"You asked me what I wanted once, I want you," he growled low, pinning her back to the wall. 

"-if you will have me."

Charlie’s mouth hung open, before she gave up on trying to form words and quickly nodded her head.

Charon’s ruined lips curled up the tiniest bit.

"I could keep a shirt on...if you want," she whispered.

"No." Charon snorted, it was an unamused sound.

"Bu-"

"I do  _ not _ care," he growled, grabbing a handful of cloth and shredding the baggy shirt as he impatiently ripped it from her body. The thought briefly flickered through his mind that she may not have been ready to have him look at her like that, to go that far. But she made no move to cover herself and bit her lip to stifle a moan at the dominant action. 

She ran a tongue over her lips, pink, soft, and swollen in contrast to the rest of her. There was something so imperfectly perfect about this moment, this little smoothskin that now occupied every corner of his mind. She was a vulgar seraph left flightless, a chipped porcelain samovar, a beautiful mess. The feel of her soft, scarred skin under his own mottled hands, the sweat beading on her brow, the sunken dark beneath her glistening eyes from restless nights...it only made him want her so much more. This was  _ real _ , and it was so much better than anything he ever could have imagined. 

Charon captured her mouth, tangling an enormous hand in her messy curls. Lips parting, tongue urgent and needy against his own, her warm body pressed flush against him. She tasted of mint, vodka and something inexplicably sweet he’d come to cherish.

The smoothskin moaned softly into the kiss, growing bold and running delicate fingers along the exposed vertebrae at the back of his neck. Her hands explored the expanse of his ruined torso, tenderly caressing the disfigured flesh as if he were nothing but whole.

It made something inside of him hurt, wishing he could be more.

Charon moved from her mouth, down her neckline, marring the soft flesh of her shoulder with his teeth until he was sure it would leave a mark. He bent down to unclasp the plain white bra, and let it fall away from her body, giving attention to a pert copper nipple. Ere his hand trailed lower, slipping past the waistband of her cotton shorts and finding its way inside her underwear. He gently caressed the soft curls before gliding his finger over the folds of her sex, the corner of his lips quirking up at how wet he found her. He was able to slip in a finger with little resistance, shifting her on the table so that her weight was supported comfortably as he pumped the digit in a rhythmic motion. 

Charlie made a soft gasping sound and awkwardly tangled her arms around his neck in what felt more like an attempt on his life than an embrace. He took that moment to add a second finger, eliciting a whimper from her parted lips at the burn she must have felt. She was so small, so tight and hot, and he focused on the way his fingers felt inside of her, the slippery heat radiating from her core, how it would feel when he was finally filling her with his cock.

His pants were becoming uncomfortably tight. 

"Fuck...fuck C-charon," Charlie gasped, clinging tightly to him as he worked thick fingers inside of her. He withdrew, bringing them to his ruined lips and tasted her. "Sweet," he commented, before pulling down her shorts and replacing his fingers along with his face between her thighs. Finding the nub of her clit with his tongue as he held her solidly against the wall. 

Charlie shivered, cheeks going bright red. “Charon, come on-” she hissed impatiently, tugging at his shoulder.

"Patience smoothskin." Charon felt cruel, he knew he could keep teasing her for a while yet before she grew impatient. 

"Oh shut up and fuck me already, you giant-" 

He cut her off by curling his fingers up and hitting that sensitive spot rooted deep inside of her. Charlie cried out, nails digging into his shoulders, but Charon didn’t give a shit. There was little she could do to his body that hadn’t been done far worse already. 

He kept her like that for a while, thick fingers abusing her swollen sex, and rough tongue pointedly working her over until she could no longer stifle the incoherent noise she let slip past her lips.

Suddenly, he picked her up and slung her limp body over his shoulder, earning him a sweet undignified squeak of surprise from his employer. 

"No don't sto-" she started to protest, before Charon dropped her flat on her back on the creaky metal framed bed. 

"Oh." Her face dusted with pink as the ghoul descended on her, trapping arms above her head like a vice. Charon didn’t allow her leeway to writhe even the tiniest bit beneath his death grip. He was the ferryman of the river Styx, and tonight he was demanding payment. She looked so helpless then, lying on the bed beneath him with no coins for passage.

He came to kneel between her parted thighs and paused, eyes half lidded and a question blistering in his throat. "Are you sure you want this?" His deep voice rumbled, and she breathlessly nodded.

_ “Good.” _

Charon's lips crashed against hers as his free hand worked to rid her fully of those ridiculous shorts, and her now very wet panties. He unbuckled his belt and pulled the straining leather down just far enough to free his erection. 

“Holy shit,” he heard Charlie whisper. Her gaze tracing the exposed abdominal muscles of his stomach to the organ at their root. He could imagine what she was thinking by the way she bit down nervously into the middle of her lip. Looking a little  _ less _ sure of herself now, a little more rattled, but still not offering any objection. The corners of his mouth turned up in an amused grin, which softened as he recognised that familiar look in her eyes that he knew all too well.

_ Fear _ .

“I will not hurt you,” he murmured a promise, pressing a kiss to the tip of her nose.

Thunder cracked beyond the confines of the metal room, and he could feel Charlie’s body shaking slightly beneath his hold. Charon drew in a breath before pressing the head of his cock against her slick opening. 

The smoothskin whimpered at the sudden pressure, and he swore under his breath as he sunk into her warm depth. She was fucking tight, too tight, the muscles deep inside of her straining in protest. 

“Charlie…” he groaned, nearly losing himself. Charon licked his lips. He wanted to ram himself the rest of the way inside her, wrap his hands around her throat and crush her airway as he roughly fucked her raw into the bed. The muscle memory was tugging at his consciousness, threatening to melt him back into a cycle of primal gratification. Her wet eyes reflect the dim glow of the incandescent lights hanging overhead, and he could see his own image in the deep brown orbs. It took him by surprise, even at this point, that she could want somebody like him. A monster _ , _ inside  _ and  _ out.

Charon clenched his jaw,  _ what the fuck was wrong with him. _

So he pushed into her painfully slow, inch by inch, allowing her time to adjust to his wide girth. Until finally his entire shaft was buried deep inside of her, violating every bit of her sex. Charlie's breath was hitched, sharp intakes of air, and the way she scrunched her face whenever he moved told him it was painful.

"Just breathe. Order me to stop if you do not wish to continue." He growled in a low tone, rubbing the small bundle of nerves between her legs in time with his strokes. 

Charlie shook her head. “No, just...keep going,” she gasped.

Charon nodded and his hips careened forward, careful to keep his weight off her. Just enough to keep her pinned securely to the mattress under his frame. The thick muscles in his arms tensed and released as he pumped himself deep between her legs, hips moving in a steady and increasingly relentless assault against her body.

Charon adjusted his position so that he could see the contact between their bodies where he penetrated her. The sight was vividly erotic, tight flesh stretched around his fat cock as he pumped in and out of her. Charon couldn’t help but be completely mesmerised by the beautiful creature beneath him. He took the time to memorize every curve of her form, every stray scratch and scar, dark veins rolling like lightning under stormy skin, the way she trembled slightly to the crack of the storm, her flushed cheeks, that name... _ his _ name falling from her parted lips, and…

Charlie winced, and the ghoul stopped abruptly. His big body curled over hers dominantly, face contorted in a half growl...he probably looked like some kind of mad animal right now. Like a feral halfway through eating somebody. But he gazed down at her with eyes betraying his concern, and released her bruised wrists. 

“Are you...should I stop?” He panted, voice deep and strained. Hardly sounding like himself anymore, more primal...and less in control. 

Charlie shook her head, reaching a hand up to cup his cheek, before placing her hands on either side of his hips and guiding him back inside her. He couldn’t remember ever being touched so eagerly, ever being wanted like this. She started to move her hips too, delicate forward thrusts encouraging him to continue. 

Charon nodded and sank back into her, this time leaving her hands free to roam the exposed muscle of his torso. She ran her fingers down a serratus, and soon he felt her roughly dig her nails into his sides as he rolled his hips faster.

He grabbed the metal frame headboard for support, trying to keep more of his weight off her. It would have been smarter to have her on top, but his brain wasn’t quite working right now. Maybe next time...if... _ well _ …

Charon pushed the thought from his mind.

He angled his thrusts to hit that bundle of nerves deep at her core with every stroke. He felt her body starting to accept him, lubricating the slick heat and taking him in even deeper, there was less resistance now as he rocked into her. It felt better like this, it was  _ different _ .

He was getting close, feeling the familiar warm burn, and by the sounds Charlie was making he was pretty sure that she was inching along the perimeter as well.

Quite suddenly there was a groan of metal giving up, and they both crashed to the floor, the mattress and slats separating from the legs of the bed and slumping in what would have been a comical manner, if he’d given a single shit right then. Charon took a moment to make sure Charlie was alright, before picking back up his harsh pace. They were both  _ so _ close.

"C-Charon..." Charlie tried to point out the obvious, but was soon lost in the intensity of each deep thrust. She wrapped those slender legs around his waist and pushed her heels into the divots above his backside, encouraging him to go harder. 

A sharp crack rang through the air, followed by a deep rumble that caused the little smoothskin beneath him to shiver and press closer to his body. Charon's powerful movements rocked her off the bed like a small boat on a tumultuous sea. And she clung to his chest as he hammered roughly inside of her, as though he were a safe haven from the raging storm outside.

Charlie cried out, loud enough that somebody in the neighbouring room banged on the slick metal wall, but he was already far too lost to care. Her muscles pulsing around him pushed him over the edge. Charon snarled, biting down into the soft flesh between neck and collarbone. Before giving four needy thrusts and spilling himself deep inside of her with a low, feral growl. 

He nearly collapsed on top of her, and it took all of his willpower to keep from crushing the smaller beneath him. They stayed like that for a moment, bodies pressed flush together and slick with sweat, panting and out of breath, before Charon withdrew from between her thighs. He looked down at the young woman plastered to the bed, a look of bliss on her adorable face, like he'd fucked all the will to move out of her. He was about to comment when he noticed the way her little body shook, and the thin streaks of red down her shoulder and between her thighs. 

_ Blood? _

“You are bleeding…” his lizard brain finally registered, struggling to make sense of what had happened, and searching her flushed face for an answer as to if she was okay. 

_ He hurt her. _

“Yeah I guess I am, you’re pretty big” she said, wincing a little as she tried to roll her injured shoulder.

“Are you alright?” 

"Well...I’m  _ intact _ , but you broke the fucking bed," she grinned, expression softening at his concern. "I’m okay, don't mother hen me."

After he'd caught his breath he sat up from the now ruined bed and began to stand. He felt a small hand grip his bare arm, barely any force to her hold.

"Stay... _ please _ ?" She asked softly, eyes already falling shut. 

He gave a nod and layed back down on the mattress beside her, as she cuddled into his side. "Goodnigght...sleep tight," she mumbled incoherently. 

“Goodnight smoothskin.”

The warm little weight at his side fell asleep soon after, naked body curled around his bicep and soft cheek smooshed ungracefully into his shoulder.  _ Trust, familiarity, vulnerability _ …all such foreign concepts to the large ghoul. And yet this little smoothskin had weaseled her way right past all of his defences and set up shop like it was nothing. 

_ What the hell had just happened. _

Charon lay awake staring at the ceiling until sleep finally overtook him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I went back and forth a lot on whether or not they would get intimate in this chapter, and it’s pretty clear what I decided on. I wanted to integrate sexuality into the strange relationship that’s forming between them, and to use it as a way of conveying more of their character and issues. It’s also just really fun to write smut. :-D
> 
> This was a hard (pun intended) chapter to write, and I’m not sure that I captured all of Charon’s complexities without it just being really convoluted, so let me know what you guys think! As always kudos, comments, and criticism is appreciated.


	11. Naufragio

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Every night must come to an end, and morning begin anew. 
> 
> Check out my tumblr <https://elfcandyart.tumblr.com/>~ I got ahead of myself and sketched a little something cute and steamy that happens in the future, maybe.

Charlie lay flat on her back against the busted mattress, staring up at the ceiling in the dim light. She watched a moth flicker around the hanging incandescent bulb, before landing on the hot glass. She could juuuust make out the way the small insect stilled as it melted against the radiant heat which had enthralled it.

It felt a little relevant. 

Charon was a lot better at it than she was, the sex. More  _ practiced _ , and she tried not to think about what that meant for him after two hundred years of slavery. 

Charlie hadn’t exactly expected him to be gentle, she’d been traveling with the big ghoul long enough to know that he wasn’t much of a soft touch. But  _ still _ . He’d been overly protective of her, almost sweet...and yet at the same time so forceful and dominating to the point where the act walked the thin line between extraordinarily arousing and... _ scary _ . It was as if he lacked the physical vocabulary for anything else. 

Charlie swallowed past the lump in her throat.

_ Yeah, he’d probably hurt a lot of people. _

What made it worse is that Charlie wasn’t even sure she’d have wanted it any other way. Was that how fucked up she was? That she’d sought out affection and to quell the emptiness inside of her from the big hands of a long abused slave.

She looked over at the ghoul’s form as he slept, the broad planes of his chest rising and falling with each rhythmic breath. He looked so peaceful, harmless even in sleep. She snuggled into his warm body, and he reflexively wrapped an arm around her.

Charlie felt  _ safe _ .

Like finding comfort cuddling up to a tiger. Powerful, cozy, and warm,  _ and _ ready to rip your throat out at a moments notice and ravage your still warm corpse as it feasted on the marrow of your bones. And like a fucking idiot she’d brushed her fingers along the bars of the cage, and whispered promises of the softness of her body, before _ opening it. _

_ Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. _

She could have grabbed any other drifter from a bar, and it would have held the promise something similar. Somebody with smooth skin, a handsome face, maybe a little rough around the edges even, and it would have brought her none of this moral grey. 

Yet all of her wanted this.  _ Charon _ . The far too large ghoul with all of his missing skin, disapproving scowls, and whatever this fucked up thing between them was becoming. 

She wanted to know him, to unravel his secrets like a kitten with a ball of yarn. She wanted to spend her days watching his back like he watched hers, wanted to cuddle up next to his warm body every evening. She wanted to fuck him every single fucking night, and maybe sometimes during the day, until inevitably she got shot somewhere that would make everything she wanted irrelevant.  _ Probably in the head.  _

She wasn’t in the vault anymore, it was time to make her own decisions, and who knew how much time she actually had. Vodka was great for near-death experiences, but there was no amount of the foul stuff that was going bring her back from the dead. As grim as that was Charlie didn’t think she was afraid to die, so much as she was afraid to live without doing all the shit she wanted to do. And god did she want to do this grumpy ass ghoul.

_ Again, and again, and... _

She touched her fingers to her neck, where the ghost of the ghoul’s hand had rested not but a month before. Charlie was no stranger to facing death, and she knew that if his previous employer had requested it, the ghoul would have snapped her neck without a second thought, or maybe worse. It made her struggle for the breath that was all too obtainable now.  _ Orders _ . Charon someplace he did not with to be.  _ Orders. _ Carrying her salvage.  _ Orders _ . Stepping into the line of fire and taking  _ so _ many bullets for her.  _ Orders _ . Fucking her into the bed…

How many others had asked him for  _ this _ . Was she any better _? _

She’d had so many moral objections, so much confidence that this wasn’t a line she would ever allow herself to cross. Yet she’d slowly convinced herself that it was okay to get just a little closer, and then a little closer, until she’d inched her way into the ghoul’s arms. And what was worse, is that she knew now it was about more than sex for her. The transgression illuminating her need for the ferryman like a bobbing lantern at sea. 

She squeezed her eyes shut. Charlie wasn’t sure she believed in an afterlife, but she knew in this moment that if something did lay beyond the expiration of the body, Charon would be the one ferrying her to hell. 

—

_ The smell of blood, the door handle was cold, he opened the door. Darkness.  _

The ferryman woke the next morning to find an empty spot next to him, painfully aware that the warm weight he’d fallen asleep next to was absent. 

That someone now sat across the room, fully clothed and whittling a small piece of wood with her combat knife. Bright red bite marks bloomed across the slight expanse of her shoulders, already beginning to wilt into a violet hue. And around each wrist she wore large angry handprints, the specter of him holding her so perfectly still. The sight reminded him of the one that had stained her neck for weeks after their meeting. 

It made Charon hate himself.

"Good morning," she said, not looking up from what she was doing.

"Morning." He wanted to say more, to ask questions, but nothing else came out. 

"Hey...you okay?" She seemed uncertain, despite him telling her it had been what he wanted. Really wanted, and enjoyed, thoroughly. Perhaps a little too much.

He gave a stiff nod.

The smoothskin didn’t look convinced, but she didn’t press it either. "Oh- well good.”  She set down the figurine and walked over to him, sitting on the edge of the mattress like a mouse at the mouth of a yao guai den. Ready to flee at the first sign of movement. 

Charon was faster. He reached out and roughly grabbed her wrists, pulling her awkwardly so that she was half sprawled across his lap. Her pulse was fast, too fast. 

He released her wrists, tracing his gaze along the bruises that speckled the curve of her neckline, and pausing at a particularly deep set of teeth marks. He’d bitten her  _ far _ harder than he’d meant to. The ghoul was so used to rolling along on a combination of orders and instinct. It made him more effective, reduced any need for hesitation, and made it easier for him to disassociate. Yet Charlie rarely provided orders, and it left him to fill in the limbo with autonomous decisions. 

Sometimes he didn’t make the best ones _._ Letting flickers of his past wrongdoings paint red the canvas of her beautiful skin. Was violence really the only thing he was capable of anymore...

Charlie scrambled back in alarm, falling off the mattress and onto the floor. Her eyes were so wide. 

That was all the answer Charon needed, she was _ afraid  _ of him. Whatever had attracted her to him before, whatever had made her wish to lay with him, now she saw for what he really was.  _ A monster. _

He’d thought before that maybe they were a little alike, just the tiniest bit, and maybe that would be enough. They were both survivors, shattered and hardened back into the image of something a little broken and put back together again by sheer stubbornness. They both had the scars to prove it. 

No. Charlie shone like a cracked prism, refracting the early morning light and making something even more beautiful out of it. Her smile could light up even the darkest of places, and she gave all of herself to making things better, to making everything better...to making  _ him _ better. She was kind, good, smart, and childishly optimistic...she was little more than a child, with her whole life ahead of her. It was hard to remember that sometimes, with how she carried herself and all she’d been through.

Charon was as old as the bones in the ground, without the good sense to die. He was overcast, violent, and broken, and as scarred as he was, it came nowhere close to how much he’d inflicted on others. She deserved so much more than that.

No. For all the times the ghoul had messed up, he wasn’t going to let himself ruin the one good thing left in this god forsaken world.

—

A storm raged across the ghouls face, before his mouth fell into a hard resigned line, and he turned away from her. 

_ Longing? Sadness? Anger?...Regret.  _

“Hey big guy, about last night…”

The ghoul stiffened, fists clenched into balls at his sides and the angle of his face tense as he clenched his jaw tightly. He didn’t even bother to turn around and look at her. 

It didn’t matter, Charlie could already read it in the hard set lines of his profile. The casual rejection hurt, like a shiv pressed between her ribs just shy of her heart.

Her body felt heavy and her knees nearly buckled as she stood from the floor, like that one time she’d ran full force into a metal vault wall. She could still feel the weight of his body on top of her, lips curled into a gentle grin against her neck, and his hands exploring her body, touching her in even the most hard to reach places. 

She had thought that maybe… _ no _ . The silence was becoming unbearably loud.

_ Did you reeeaally think you were good enough for anything more? A beat up brat from the vault with a loud mouth, a pension for getting into trouble, and nice tits. After all he’s done, the least you could do was let him fuck you without expecting it to turn into a telenovela.  _

She walked away from the stoic ghoul on wobbly legs, and seated herself back down at the table. Turning away to gaze out the small window and allow him the privacy to redress himself. 

The night before was something she would remember fondly, but that’s all it was. A memory. 

—

Twenty minutes later the smoothskin finally sighed, breaking the hanging silence. “Well, I got the information I came here for already, and it looks like Rivet City is a dead end. So I guess let’s head out to scav, or something.” Her tone was flat, guarded, devoid again of all the emotion he’d been allowed to glimpse over the past few days. 

The mask she wore suggested she didn’t care, but Charon knew better that to believe the blankness of her expression by now. She’d wandered into greenskin territory for a set of coordinates that led her to where anyone would have told her to go if she was looking to find something. She marched towards her objective with unwavering certainty, and now it was or something? No, she was merely shutting herself off from him. He couldn’t blame her, it was better this way. 

She stood, gathering her pack from the floor and slinging it over her shoulder. “Let’s go big guy,” she said, pushing through the metal door and out of the room where things were best left forgotten. 

Charon wouldn’t forget, but that’s all it should be. A memory.

Charon picked up the little wooden figurine that Charlie had discarded on the table, before following her out of the room. He turned it over in his palm, examining it’s carefully smoothed contours, given shape by her skilled hands. 

It was a tiger. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like one big missed high five. As always kudos, comments and criticism is much appreciated, I'd love to hear what you thought of the chapter. <3


	12. Glass Elephant

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Charon does his best impression of a rock, and Charlie exercises her extensive vocabulary of euphemisms. They both have their own dysfunctional way of dealing with delicate avoidance.
> 
> Check out my tumblr for Charon drawings and cake <https://elfcandyart.tumblr.com/>~

Charlie shivered under the blanket of cold that had festered over the Capital Wasteland. Vast rolling plains of arid gravel and brush, frosted compactly together like old friends. Grey, bleak, and  _ boring _ . She sighed and looked across to the giant ghoul trudging slightly ahead of her, pale eyes scanning the horizon for any signs of movement.

She knew this was the work part that constituted day to day life in the Capital Wasteland, but she couldn’t help but find it incredibly dull. They were about two days out from Rivet City, and Charlie had exhausted Charon’s one word replies, bored herself with watching the way his bulky muscles rolled under leather armor, counted her steps until she lost mark around three-thousand, successfully turned her toes into popsicles, considered the existence of a higher power, aaaand talked herself into believing that aliens could be a responsible for super mutants,  _ twice. _

Charlie had never been one lacking in imagination, she'd kept herself entertained in a cement box for the better part of two decades. But any more quiet time and she was gonna lose it. 

She watched as Charon scaled down the side of a crumbling overpass, skilled hands catching in the nooks to support his weight. Once he reached the ground, he gestured for her to follow.

The chilly air cut at her exposed skin, and Charlie pulled the leather jacket closer to her body. The cold was something she'd never get used to no matter how long she'd been out of the vault, but the cold coming from her stalwart ghoul companion was so much worse.

It had been three days and nine hours since they’d _did_ _it_. Bumped uglies, cleaned out the cobwebs, stuffed the thanksgiving turkey, played a round of fleshy Tetris, went to fifth base, and danced the reverse salsa. Charlie could think of a thousand things to call it, but that didn’t make up for the fact that Charon never did. While the unspoken thing that there’d been between them had been consummated, there still wasn’t a lot of actual _speaking_.

The ghoul kept a healthy layer of personal space between them. Twelve steps ahead and two to the right, to be exact. Close enough that he could reach her easily should any danger arise, but too far for it to be considered intimate. Every time she tried to reach out, Charon seemed only to draw further into himself. Grunting dismissively, and brushing her away to a safe distance both physically, and emotionally.

Charlie felt more alone than ever before. A few days ago she’d at least had a friend, now he wouldn’t even acknowledge her. Maybe she was hoping for too much, it was just _fucking_ after all. Two people sharing their bodies to fulfill a basic need. Not one of her dusty old romance novellas where it always actually meant something. She didn’t have any right to ask for more.

If there was one thing Charlie was good at, it was keeping her emotional turmoil to herself. So she tucked all her feelings into her obnoxiously coloured vault suit, and looked down below to where Charon was watching her expectantly. 

_ It was a long way down _ ...

_ Heights _ , another thing Charlie didn’t exactly have to deal with in the vault. Nothing was further up or down than she could safely touch with the pads of her fingertips. She felt safe in tight spaces, like in Charon’s arms, eclipsed from the outside world by his large form...aaand there went her brain again.

She gulped a lungful of air, and turned to follow the ghoul down to solid ground.

_ Pff this isn’t so hard. _

Her foot slipped. 

For a moment Charlie became completely weightless. Then she was falling, wind whipping past her hair and the ground rushing towards her at an alarming speed. She didn’t even have the chance for the adrenaline fueled fear to kick in before the warm weight of the ghoul’s muscular arms were wrapping around her, cradling her securely against his chest. He’d caught her so easily, as if she didn’t weigh anything at all.

“T-thanks,” she fumbled, and without thinking pressed her lips clumsily to the underside of his jawline. Hands grasping at the leather collar of his jacket as her close encounter with the ground began to really sink in. He let her cling, her head resting against the bend of his neck and holding her close without a word until her breathing was even and steady again.

Charon cleared his throat and set her feet down gently on the ground. Just like that the spell was broken, and they were back in the filthy, frozen wasteland.

The distance swelled up between them. 

Charlie felt deflated, like a forgotten birthday balloon, a half eaten sponge cake rung dry, and birthday wishes that rarely came true. At times like these Charlie envied the shiny indifference of Andy the Mr. Handy.

No. She’d promised herself she wouldn’t dwell on what had happened between them. After eighty-one hours he clearly didn’t want to talk about it, and she wasn’t going to push her luck.

On the other hand...he was over two centuries old and had to be a wealth of stories, enough to keep her entertained for years. He was her ticket out of boredom land, she just knew it. 

Charlie was genuinely interested in getting to know the crappy excuse for a debate partner, and not just because she was bored out of her skull, or that he’d assaulted her with a friendly weapon. She wanted to know the man under all that prime cut day-old meat. 

She increased her pace until she’d caught up with the ghoul, and set a tentative hand against his guarded wrist to gain his attention. He halted, gaze angled down and waiting for her to speak. 

_ Okay Charlie, get your foot out of your mouth and say something. _

Charlie took a deep breath, and tried to sound as casual as possible. “Hey, so it’s been a few days since we played hide the sausage...” Charon stiffened, but she forced herself to keep speaking. “I was thinking maybe we could talk...not about...just anything really. I’d like to know more about you.” She paused and not able to stand the silence anymore... “We could make a game out of it, ask each other questions or something,” she added, and cringed internally at how childish it sounded.  _ Smooth smoothskin _ .

Charon seemed to consider this for a moment, regarding her with a raised eyebrow and his standard frown. “Very well, but remain vigilant.”

“Wait...really?” Charlie had never expected him to actually _ agree _ . 

Charon gave a single stern nod, and continued his brisk pace. 

She hadn’t really thought this far ahead. “Okay, um-” 

“Did you ever think it a mistake, purchasing my contract?” he cut her off. 

“Right about the time you strangled the last holder to death.”

The big ghoul remained silent, walking with his back to her. He’d asked the question so quickly, that she suspected it was something that’d been on his mind for a while.

_ Did you regret it? _

“No...I never regretted it. You scared me a lot at first, but now...it's nice. There's nobody I’d rather be traveling with, and...uh  _ stuff _ ,” Charlie finished awkwardly.

The tension in Charon’s shoulders relaxed, just the tiniest bit. 

“So...what was your impression of me when we met the first time? Before I...uhh purchased your exceptionally useful services.”

“This smoothskin is an idiot.”

“I do have my moments,” Charlie grinned.

“You were out of place,” he said more seriously. “Humans rarely venture into Underworld, and none ever attempted to speak with me.” He slowed down slightly to allow her to match his pace, and they walked side by side a few steps apart.

Charlie laughed. “I’m glad that’s what you remember, pretty sure I implied you were a super mutant.” 

“And you?” 

“You were...intriguing. Being in a city full of ghouls, I was trying not to let my mouth run and say something dumb as shit. Then I see this giant ass ghoul who couldn’t even stand up straight without his head hitting the fucking ceiling, and I just kind of blurted  _ that  _ out. I thought you were just a merc at first, so I tried to hire you off the bartender. I figured if nothing else you’d be able to beat most stuff in the wasteland to death with your hands.” Charlie bit her lip. “I think you heard the tail end of this story when I was plastered.”

Charon nodded his head with the faintest hint of an amused grin. It made Charlie smile too, finally seeing him in better spirits. 

“What kind of things make you happy?”

He seemed to consider this for a moment before answering. “A warm gun, a supply stash, food that does not come from a can-” The ghoul looked as though he was about to say more, but instead stopped there. Keeping the list short and tactical. 

Simple pleasure, Charlie could appreciate that.

Their conversation soon turned to a banter of back and forth questions as they walked through the frozen hellscape of the Wasteland. In just a few short hours she learned more about the ghoul than in the month they’d been traveling together. Having an actual conversation for the first time since she’d left the vault made the journey pass quickly, and by the time she realized it was growing dark they’d come upon the edge of a relatively intact pre-war town.

“This location will provide adequate shelter,” Charon grumbled, walking ahead of her down a narrow alleyway between two buildings. 

It was becoming difficult to see, between the setting sun and the chilly wind forcing her eyes half shut. She could just make out Charon’s back disappearing behind the angle of a brick building before something connected with her back, sending her face first onto the icy cement. 

She struggled to fill her lungs, and looked up to see a smudged face and raised bat. 

“Give me all your shit and and nobody gets hurt!” the man yelled, his eyes wild and unfocused.

A single raider. He probably thought she was alone, that was good- Charlie didn’t have time to find her bearings, before Charon’s fist connected with the raider’s face, sending the man flying. She heard the sharp cry as he hit the concrete. Then the ghoul was descending on him like an animal going in for the kill, and crushed the man’s skull with the heavy metal plate of his gauntlet. He captured a knife as the raider weakly tried to stab at him, and plunged it deep into the man’s jugular. The screaming grew quiet, but the ghoul didn’t stop. He crushed, stab and  _ cut _ until there was little at all left of her assailant. She’d seen Charon kill before, but he was always so cold and efficient, like he didn’t care one way or the other. 

Now the ghoul was angry. This...this was brutal,  _ scary _ . 

“Fuck Charon stop! He’s dead!” Charlie cried out.

It was enough to snap the him out of the violent delirium, and he stood, backing away from the bloody mess staining the concrete. His expression was flat, but his chest and shoulders rose and fell from the heavy intake of breath, and the look in his eyes...Charlie recognized that look. It was the same one he’d had when he was _fucking_ _her_. 

There was a part of him that enjoyed this, the  _ violence _ . She supposed after two hundred years there wouldn’t be much sanity left if he didn’t. It made her chest hurt, the way he’d been twisted into the caricature of a loaded gun.

_ You knew this already, you knew this already, you knew this already _ . She repeated to herself like a mantra, as if that would vanquish the image of the man’s head cracked open like a can of cram on the pavement.

“Next time  _ yell _ ,” Charon growled, not acknowledging the state of the raider’s corpse. He turned and continued to walk forward, scouting the adjacent alleyways to root out any more assailants that might be concealed in the shadows. Thankfully, they seemed to be alone.

Charlie swallowed, and rose on wobbly legs to stand. 

The raider had been young, maybe even younger than her. She wasn’t even sure he was going to hurt her, if they’d just...maybe they could have... _ no _ . Losing your weapons and rations in the wasteland was as good as a death sentence, and that raider’s pupils had been blown wide on psycho at the very least. What was Charon supposed to do, wait until he’d cracked her over the head with a bat? As accommodating as the ghouls was, somehow she didn’t think he’d go for that. 

This was the way the world worked, and Charon was as much a product of it as anybody else. Out here everybody was a threat, everybody was dangerous no matter how young they looked, and most could end a life with little hesitation or remorse. She’d learned that the hard way when a child that couldn’t have been more than seven lured her into an ambush. Charon didn’t leave room for mistakes like that. It might be brutal, but he was effective, and they were alive because of it. She would much prefer a dead raider to a dead friend, or a dead  _ her _ . 

Charlie sucked in a breath and followed after the ghoul, hand resting apprehensively on the grip of her pistol in its holster.

“I-If you could go anywhere in the wasteland, where would you go?” 

Charon turned without slowing his pace and raised an eyebrow at her, clearly surprised the questions were continuing. “Nowhere.”

“So you’d just stand here?” she chuckled nervously. “Really, there isn’t anywhere you’d like to go?” She could infer that it must be hard to form positive memories as somebody in his situation, the thought made the tightness in her chest worse.

Charon shook his head, then paused. “I enjoy Rivet City.”

Charlie couldn’t help but grin.  _ She bet he did.  _

They came upon a dilapidated brick building that looked mostly intact, and Charon gestured for her to stop. “There may be inhabitants, stay behind me.” The ghoul turned the handle and found it unlocked, slowly toeing the door open with his boot to keep both hands securely on his shotgun. When he found the entry empty, he gestured for her to follow. 

The building was for the most part empty and intact, hallways dusty and deserted save for the skeletal graves of unfortunate pre-war souls. This place, it was a  _ tomb _ . It made Charlie feel a little bad, but she figured that after two hundred years any lingering spirits probably wouldn’t mind a few missing bottle caps and pilot lights. 

Charon was rifling through a desk, seemingly unbothered by the bones beneath his feet. He’d stopped talking, so she figured it was going to be up to her to restart any sort of conversation. “Do you have anybody that you care about? Friends or family, or...”

The ghoul shook his head absently as he worked. “Carol and many of the ghouls in Underworld were kind, but I would not go so far as to say I cared about them or that they cared about me. More not wishing to poke the bear.”

Charlie nodded, walking towards a large desk at the head of the room. 

“You do not mention your family, are they deceased?”

Charlie cringed. Blunt, as always. “Yeah, I guess I don’t. My mom died when I was born, before I came to the vault.” 

“You were not born in a vault?”

“Nah, but I came there as a newborn, so I don’t remember anything before.”

For a moment she thought he might ask about the other half of her parentage, but thankfully the ghoul just nodded his head, looking thoughtful. He never pushed, and though it was hypocritical Charlie was grateful for it.

“Do you remember your life before the war? Family? Anything?”

“I remember there being order. In the world at whole, but also in my life. And the ocean. But little else. It is like when you wake from a dream only to forget most of the content.”

Charlie smiled. “The ocean...I noticed that. Think it’s cause you used to ferry people across the river Styx?”

Charon snorted. “I was not aware you knew of the correlation. Also, that is not my name.”

“I figured as much, it sounds more like an omen than a name...but it does suit you.” She grinned. “Do you remember your name...from before?”

He shook his head. “I think have had many.”

It made her chest even heavier, how much of himself he must have lost to the passage of time. That all he knew was slavery and the cruelty of the wasteland. 

“Do you remember what these are?” She asked, poking at the pale stars that peek out from beneath an armored wrist.

Charon shook his head absently. “No.”

“Estrella,” she mumbled absently, ghosting fingertips over the tight astral depictions.

Charon stiffened beneath her hold, and she quickly let go of his arm. 

_ Shit _ , she really had to stop touching him. It was harder than it should be to rewind her internal tape back to a time where that was off limits.

Charon rubbed his temples, as if something were causing him pain. “It is fine,” he replied after a few moments.

Charlie was about to push further than she should, when something else caught her attention. “Oh holy fuck, this teacher’s desk is full of-” She held up a victorious cartridge. The desk was filled to the brim with ammunition, medical supplies, and a couple firearms. Somebody had probably stashed all their stuff here and died before they could come back, either that or whoever owned this pre-war desk had a few bolts loose. 

Charon walked up behind her, his large cast shadow engulfing her in darkness. “Good work smoothskin,” he mumbled, examining the contents of the desk from over her shoulder.

She felt a swell of pride at the praise, it was probably the closest thing to nice he’d ever said to her. She realized it was also the closest he’d gotten to her intentionally since... _ well.  _

A shiver ran up her spine and settled in her chest, where the tension had become overwhelming. If Charlie didn’t ask now, she was going to shove it so far down her ribcage it would stay there forever. She turned to face the ghoul, close enough now that she could feel the heat rolling off him in waves. And let her heart fall from her throat. 

“Do you regret what happened between us?”

The glass elephant cracked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you can see, my primary goal for this (and the next) chapter was how many euphemisms for sex I could fit in. <3
> 
> Sorry for the mini cliffhanger. This was an insanely long chapter originally, and I had to awkwardly break it in a couple places. Thank you for all the comments and kudos so far, I’m super happy you’re all enjoying this. As always I’d love to hear what you thought of the chapter, and how angry you are that they’re this bad at communicating. :-D


	13. Euphemisms for Harder-to-Say Words

“Do you regret what happened between us?”

“No.”

There was no pause, no contemplation, no uncertainty, and it left Charlie feeling even more confused than before. “Okay, we porked. I get it. I don’t expect you to proclaim your undying devotion to me or something,” she kept her voice level as she spoke. “Well...I guess I have that already. I just wanted to ask...y’know, because you seem really put out about it.”

She didn’t miss the way the ghoul’s brow furrowed. “You think I do not want you?”

“Well-“

“-Smoothskin,” he interrupted her, halting his search for useful components. "What does this mean?" 

“What?”

“This,” he gestured to the space between them. “Was it only sex, or…” 

_Is_ _this something more_.

“I don’t know,” she said, chewing he r lip. “I’d like...I don’t know.” she repeated. She looked at Charon, hoping he would answer the question for her, but the ghoul only stared blankly back at her. “I’ve been alone...for a long time. Being here with you is kinda the first time I haven’t been, as messed up as that sounds,” she said in little more than a whisper. “I don’t just want sex. I want you, all of you.”

The ghoul was silent for a painfully long while, before he finally spoke.

“ _ That...is not a good idea _ ,” he stated, jaw set in a rigid line. 

“Oh. Yeah, okay,” she whispered, heart wedging itself back in her throat. 

“Smoothskin...we are very different-”

Charlie opened her mouth, so close to telling him it would be better if he just stopped talking, that she got the message. When it clicked for her...he wasn’t saying  _ no _ . 

A little grin tugged at the edge of her lips. “You are unfathomably large.”

"I am a ghoul..." he mumbled. His protests becoming weaker and weaker, more superficial, and like a hungry mongrel Charlie could already smell the promise of victory. 

"And what smoothskin has ever saved my ass as much as you have? Besides, not like I'm winning any beauty pageants with my clothes off. It looks like somebody came at me with a cheese grater."

Charon’s frown deepened. "Your scars do not make you less desirable, Charlie." 

It was the first time he'd ever used her name, and it made her smile. 

“Smoothskin, you do not understand. I cannot...it will only lead to me failing you, in the end.”

Ahh there it was. _ I’m not good enough.  _ Self doubt, that was something Charlie could relate to.

“I did this,” he croaked, brushing a thumb down the purple bruise of the bite mark that was beginning to scar over. 

_ I hurt you. _

“Charon-“

“I have hurt many people.” 

_ I’m a monster. _

Charlie stepped forward so she stood nearly toe to toe with the giant. “I know, and I still want you.”

“You could not,” the ghoul replied resolutely. “Even if you could bandage everything, I am nothing but scars smoothskin. Do not waste your time on me.”

Charlie pressed her lips into a thin line, catching his wrist gently as he tried to draw back. “Don’t  _ ever  _ try to make decisions for me. What I waste my time on is my call, and you’re not a waste, Charon.”

“I...have never had to be anything other than what I am,” he answered weakly, sounding so desperate and unsure. His eyes hesitantly met hers and for the first time they weren’t set like ice in the forlorn shadow of his brow. Now the pale blue just looked sad, like the cataracts of an old ghoul who had made a lot of mistakes. 

Of all the clever things she’d thought of saying to him if this moment ever came, the words that followed were not anything she’d ever planned. Charlie supposed this was a little outside her skillset too, talking about feelings.

“I care about you. It’s complicated, I get that. I just…I think we’re both a little broken, a bit lost, and alone, but maybe together we can be something greater than the sum of our pieces. I want to watch your back like you watch mine, I want to talk... _ at _ you I guess,” the edge of her lips quirked up. “And this...whatever it is, just feels  _ right _ .”

_ I need you. _

The expression on the ghoul’s face could only be described as yearning.

“This is weird, and unconventional...it’s completely new to me too. The last thing I want to do is pressure you if this isn’t something you want, but I _do_ want this... _you_.”

“If you’ll have me?” She mirrored Charon’s words from that stormy night days before, and held her breath. 

Charon opened his mouth to speak, but then seemed to decide against it. Instead he stepped forward and wrapped his arms around her shoulders, pulling her against his broad chest. She knew that for him, actions would always speak louder than words. 

_ Yes. _

“We can figure the rest out as we go,” she whispered.

She yelped as the large ghoul suddenly grabbed her and set her astride the desk. Pressing their bodies flush together, before crushing his lips against hers. The kiss was rough and unrestrained, needy.

She parted her lips and ran her tongue over the crest of his teeth, before wrapping her thighs securely around the groove of his hips.

Charon moaned into the kiss, tangling an enormous hand into the hair at the base of her neck. 

She was so certain he was going to bend her over the conveniently placed desk and take her right there, but when they parted for breath he swung her around to carry her in his arms across the room.

“We will come back for the stash later,” he murmured, ducking to avoid cracking his head on the door frame as he exited into the hallway. The ghoul cradled her body protectively close to his chest as he poked his head into several rooms. He was probably looking for a bed, but the best they came across was a threadbare couch in a small office.

Charlie could feel his heart beating heavily as he sat down on the couch, not releasing her from his hold. She wiggled free and pressed a kiss to the underside of his jaw.

“Hey...promise me that from here on you’ll tell me if you don’t want to do something okay? Even if it’s dumb like ‘No Charlie, I cannot carry any more desk fans.’” She lowered her voice in poor imitation of his own.

Charon chuckled, before his expression fell into something more somber. “I do not want to hurt you, but I will. I have never had to be anything other than what I am,” he echoed his earlier words. “I am not soft, I am not good, and if you lose the contract and the next holder wishes you dead...I will kill you.”

“ _ I know _ .”

The ghoul’s expression was resigned, almost sad. “You should rest.”

It was true, she probably should, but Charlie felt restless and giddy on the high of recent confessions. The only thing she wanted to right now was turn that frown upsi- into a sex frown. 

So instead she shifted her position so that she kneeled over his lap, couch cushions sinking beneath them and bringing their bodies closer together. She let her lips hover inches from his, his soft breath tickling her face. “I think we both know that isn't going to happen.”

“Smoothskin…”

“Don’t smoothskin me, I spent the last three days thinking you were mad at me for paddling your canoe.” Despite her bold words, she was indeed very tired. 

Charon sighed, rubbing his temples. “I do not understand half the things you say.”

“What can I say, I have a great vocabulary and I like to use it. Actually...I have a lot of great things I’d like to put to use...” She grinned, running a tongue over her lips. 

Charon’s jaw was clenched, and she could feel the bulge in his pants growing more rigid against her thigh. He reached for her, then froze, hand hovering inches from the collar of her suit as though he were afraid to touch her.

He wasn’t ready, and Charlie wasn’t going to push. As much as she wanted to be with him like that again, she wasn’t going to pretend the idea didn’t scare her too. 

The ghoul swallowed, and drew back his hand. Instead he leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her nose, bumping the hollowed ridge of his own against her brow. Then he wrapped both of those tree-trunk arms around her and forcefully flopped them down on the couch, so that his back rested against the cushions and Charlie lay astride him. “Rest.” He commanded, holding her tightly as she wiggled in his arms. 

“Ass!” She giggled. 

“Smoothskin-“

“Oh stop with-“

“-Look,” the ghoul growled softly, pointing up to a large window beyond which tiny cotton balls drifted lazily down, accented against the dark backdrop of the night sky. 

“Is that...snow?”

She could feel the ghoul nod beneath her. 

Her face lit up and she popped up to gaze through the window. “I’ve never seen snow before, it’s beautiful.”

She turned back to catch the ghoul watching her with that look she couldn’t quite place, before he averted his gaze to the side. “It gets old after a while. It falls, it is cold, and then it melts. Still better than the heat.”

“Mmm makes sense, you’re pretty warm,” she hummed, snuggling back against the ghoul’s toasty frame. “I've noticed ghoul's run hotter than other people, any idea why?

Charon just shrugged, adjusting his hold so that she rested comfortably against his chest. Head tucked securely under his chin. “To keep smoothskins warm.”

“Well, I'm not complaining. This smoothskin doesn't like the cold,” Charlie chuckled, tracing the intricate web of radiation scars down his bare forearm to the bend of his elbow. His body was a patchwork of battle wounds and scars, and Charlie wanted to know each one. But for tonight, with her consciousness dangerously close to giving up on her, an arm would do. 

Charlie felt safe, and for the first time in a long time her mind was at ease, free from the curling tendrils of self doubt. Her dark passenger was quiet. 

She wanted to stay in this moment forever, but her eyes were already growing heavy with sleep, and her thoughts becoming steadily more dream-like. Finally, her body lost the battle against exhaustion and she fell asleep wrapped in the ghoul’s strong arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’d love to know what you guys thought of this chapter, and as always kudos, comments, and critique are much appreciated! <3
> 
> Obligatory link to my tumblr <https://elfcandyart.tumblr.com/>


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